


Shakespeare Has Nothing on Us

by QuagmireMarch



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 25,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26213458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuagmireMarch/pseuds/QuagmireMarch
Summary: When Yuri Katsuki gets accepted to a prestigious international high school program the last thing he expects is to end up pretending to be Yuri Plisetsky's boyfriend. The falling for Yuri's brother, who also happens to be Katsuki's skating idol, that was a given.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 246
Kudos: 430





	1. New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I do these things to myself. 
> 
> Okay, a few small notes:  
> 1\. Rating is largely for Yurio's potty mouth, but also because I have absolutely no idea where this is going.  
> 2\. Not beta read and my editing is haphazard at best, so if you see an error, feel free to let me know.  
> 3\. For the sake of this particular plot ages have been tweaked. Yuri is 16, Yurio is 15, and Victor, when he shows up, is 19.  
> 4\. I suck at tagging, so those may be expanded as we go.  
> 5\. This is a bit of a slow start. I regret nothing.

Katsuki Yuri never expected to move to Russia. Sure, he’d considered going abroad for training when college came, but that was still two years away, and he’d been thinking America. But, when Minako had showed up with an offer to attend an international school in Saint Petersburg that came with the chance to study ballet under Lilia Baranovskaya _and_ attend all summer ice skating training sessions under Yakov Feltsman, well, Yuri would have been an idiot to say no, anxiety be damned.

The decision seemed easier from the safe confines of his bedroom than here, standing in front of the dorms with his single suitcase, and surrounded by a milling crowd of people mostly speaking in a language Yuri had only the barest grasp on. For an international school there seemed to be a preponderance of Russians. Though, being, well, Russia, maybe that made sense.

Still, the large white stone building loomed over Yuri as he double and triple checked his orientation packet. School itself started in six weeks, but he’d been required to show up early for a month-long ballet assessment and then a two-week skating evaluation. The latter would determine exactly how much skating they allowed him to do.

The school catered primarily to athletes: hockey, skiing, and, of course, ice skating. Intensive and demanding, those in the sports programs spent almost every waking moment not on academics in training. However, Yuri technically belonged to the much smaller dance program not the main academy. That he got to attend the skating seminars at all was not really part of his curriculum. Yuri had no idea how Minako made it happen, but he was deeply grateful. And, much to his shame, also irritated it’d been necessary. Yuri knew he was a dime-a-dozen skater with no great talent or genius, but a secret part of his heart still longed to be good enough to have gotten into the skating program.

He felt like an ingrate even thinking about it. Plenty of people would kill for the opportunity he had. Yuri needed to get over his pointless wishing and take advantage of what lay in front of him. So, shoulders back and head up, he made his way into the building.

The doors opened into a large foyer, warmer and more inviting than Yuri expected. In the center a large, double-wide staircase led up to what were likely the dorm rooms. Behind the stairs Yuri made out a large elevator, a pair of restrooms, and what looked like a first aid station judging by the red cross that marked the door. Off to each side were large, open rooms, one clearly an eating area with a fridge and microwave tucked in one corner, the other a seating area with comfy chairs, a large television, several public use computers, and one very over-stuffed bookshelf.

Done all in various shades of neutral, nothing really matched and it all looked well-worn, though immaculately maintained. Yuri loved it already.

But, before he could explore, he had to get his room assignment, arrange for the bedding and essentials that had been shipped ahead to be retrieved from storage, and probably crawl in a corner and have a panic attack.

He felt calm, well, calm-ish, right now, but Yuri knew himself well. Once he ran out of must-do tasks and got left alone with his thoughts, things were likely to go downhill fast. He wanted to be somewhere private when it did.

Which meant joining the meandering line of other students that twisted around the entryway. Here the diversity of the school became clear. People from all walks of life waited the only thing they obviously had in common being there were all somewhere between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.

With a deep breath, Yuri took his spot at the end of the queue, right behind a tanned, dark-haired fellow who looked to be a bit younger than Yuri himself. Also, judging from the bright smile and bold red and gold outfit, a lot more confident.

Which the boy proved almost as soon as Yuri had the thought by turning and beaming at Yuri. “Hi!” The boy spoke in good, if accented, English, “I’m Phichit Chulanont. I’m a freshman, brand new!” He offered a hand.

Yuri blinked as he took the hand, wondering if one could actually go blind from being smiled at like that. “Um, Katsuki Yuri. I...um...I’m a sophomore? But new?” He hoped he got that right. The International school used an American system for grade level.

“Cool! We can be new together!” Phichit bounced on his toes, all boundless energy. “What program are you in? I’m an ice skater.”

“Oh, ah,” Yuri looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m on the ballet track.”

“Really?” Phichit’s eyes went wide. “That’s amazing! I heard they only take like ten students a year for that program. You must be really good, Katsuki.”

Yuri blushed and scuffed his toe on the thin brown and gold carpet. He wanted to argue, to explain he’d been let in as a favor, out of pity, but it seemed unkind to dim Phichit’s excitement. “Um, well, thank you?” He looked up at the younger boy and offered a tentative smile. “You can call me Yuri if you want.”  
  
“The hell he can,” a loud voice shouted behind Yuri. “That’s _my_ name. Pick something else, you useless pig.”

Both Yuri and Phichit turned to stare at the boy who’d gotten in line behind Yuri. Short and slender, he’d have looked ethereal with his blonde hair and green eyes were it not for the dark leopard-print clothes and furious scowl. As they looked he tilted his face up, stretching on tiptoes to get right into Yuri’s face. “You got something to say, _piggy?”_

Yuri stared at the boy, completely at a loss as to what he’d done to warrant that kind of aggression. He took a step back, hands going up placatingly more or less on habit, when he caught sight of Phichit from the corner of his eye. The dark-skinned boy had taken out his phone and the skin around the corners of his mouth had gone white with the effort Phichit made not to laugh.

It made Yuri reconsider his situation, that he’d been called out by an angry little sprite of a boy over, of all the things about Yuri someone could take exception to, _his name_. It was ridiculous. And suddenly, hilarious.

Yuri just barely managed to swallow down his own chuckle enough to choke out a quiet, “No.” He didn’t want to offend the kid. Well, anymore than his mere existence apparently already had.

“Hmph,” the boy nodded as if he’d won something. “Good.”  
  
Yuri and Phichit glanced at each other and broke out into giggles. Maybe Yuri’d be able to avoid that panic attack after all.


	2. Wherein No One Believes Yuri Katsuki is in the Dance Program

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri meets his roommate and his idol. Neither goes as expected.

Yuri liked his room. Simple, two loft beds with desks tucked underneath and two closets, each with a dresser tucked inside. Small but efficient. He’d just finished making his bed and set up his one framed photo of his family, including Vicchan, on his desk when the door opened.

He smiled, and hopped down from the bed to greet his new roommate. When he turned to take in the blond ball of coiled fury standing in the doorway, the smile withered at the edges. This was...not ideal.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” The blond Yuri whirled and kicked the door closed with enough force to shake the room before tossing his backpack, cheetah print because apparently that existed, onto the desk chair on the side of the room not claimed. “Why the hell did they put me with you? You’re not even a fucking freshman!”

Yuri shrugged. “Maybe because I’m new? Um...I’m Katsuki Yuri. It’s--”  
  
“I know who you are, loser. You won Junior Nationals in Japan this year.”

“Oh. Um...so,” Yuri brought his shoulders up as if he could hide behind them, “you’re an ice skater then? And you’re name is Yuri, too, right?”

The boy stared, once more getting right into Yuri’s face. “Are you shitting me? You don’t know who I am? Seriously?”

Yuri blinked. “Should I?”

The snarl that filled the room sent a shiver up Yuri’s spine. “And here I thought _Victor_ was self-absorbed.” He flailed a hand at his own chest. “Yuri Plisetsky, Junior Grand Prix champion, basically ruling the international juniors scene. Do you not pay attention to you competition _at all?_ ”

“Ah,” Yuri felt his face burning. “I...um...well, I don’t really compete internationally, so--”  
  
“Yeah,” Plisetsky crossed his arms and stepped back, though he continued scowling. “Why the fuck is that anyway?”

Yuri slipped around Plisetsky and into his desk chair, feeling slightly less exposed in the space created by the loft. It also bought him a moment to figure out how he wanted to answer. “I, well, I don’t have a coach exactly, and Minako—she’s my ballet teacher—didn’t feel...qualified, I guess, to take me to international events. Which is fine,” he hurried to add. “Since I’m not really good enough anyway.”

“Not good--” Yuri sputtered incoherently for several seconds. Then he leaned over Yuri’s chair, hands on the armrests, “Why the fuck are you even here then? If you’re so _pathetic_ why don’t you just leave and let a real skater have your place in the school?”

This close Yuri could see the gold flecks in Plisetsky’s eyes, like little bits of flame within the green. He wondered if the blond weren’t actually some kind of demon sent to torment him. Frozen by sheer rage directed at him, Yuri blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I’m in the dance program.”

Plisetsky reeled back as if Yuri had shoved him. “You have no coach and a quad toe loop and you’re in the _fucking dance program_? Why? What the--?” He flailed again, hands thrown up towards the ceiling as he let out an actual scream. Then, shooting one murderous look over his shoulder at Yuri, he stormed out.

The sound of the door slamming echoed like a curse.

##

Among the numerous facilities the school offered were not one but three skating rinks. One was reserved for the ice skating program and another for the hockey program, but the third, much smaller and older, could be used by any student. This early, with much of the student body not even on campus yet, Yuri managed to snag ice time without much problem. Not private, but they limited slots at least, so it wouldn’t be crowded. It’d have to do.

He took in the small space as he laced up the skates. Unlike the bigger rinks there were no seats for spectators, just a set of benches set up behind the boards. The actual ice itself was not much smaller than the Ice Castle in Hasetsu and currently pristine. While others could come at any point, Yuri currently had the place to himself other than the bored looking attendant at the sign-in desk in the entry.

Perfect.

Yuri slipped onto the ice and into compulsory figures, the stress of a new place and difficult roommates sliding away to the back of his mind, lost in routine and the soft classical music playing in his headphones. Skating, at least outside of competition, always did this, made the world fall away. On the ice there was just him, the ice, music, and movement.

He loved it. And he didn’t want to have to give it up.

But, without a real coach, and with no international experience to tempt one, Yuri’s chances of moving into serious competition, especially in the senior division were basically dead on arrival. Not to mention his sub par skills. Having only one quad worked okay in Juniors, but he was seriously behind on technical elements for Seniors. Another downside to lacking a dedicated figure skating coach.

If honest with himself, he came to this school looking for a miracle, that someone might see him at the seminars and want to take him on. Silly, he knew, but the hope remained flickering and tiny in the hidden corners of his heart.

Yuri slipped out of the basic figures and into the step sequence for his routine from Nationals. Here, at least, he knew he shone. He’d been dancing since he started walking, his body felt more at ease in these motions than any other time. Gliding into a twirl and then spin combination, he let himself forget the worries, the future, and just _moved_.

When he returned to himself, breathless and sweaty, it was to the sound of someone clapping. It came from behind, so Yuri turned to find himself facing probably the last person he ever expected to meet. Victor Nikiforov. Only nineteen and already building a legacy in men’s figure skating, already touted as possibly the best skater in the world. Standing in front of the bench where Yuri’s bag sat, clapping. For him.

Yuri had an embarrassing number of posters of this man on his walls at home. Had, in fact, learned his quad toe loop by watching videos of Victor over and over and over.

What the hell was he doing here?

Swallowing hard and feeling the flush creep up his neck and down his chest, Yuri blinked repeatedly, certain his eyes had to be deceiving him. He didn’t have his glasses on so it was possible, right? This could be some other tall, gorgeous, silver-haired god?

Blue eyes met Yuri’s and the man smiled, his lips somehow making a perfect heart. “That was amazing! Such grace! Are you new to the school? I’m sure I’d have remembered seeing you before.”

“Oh, um, yeah. I’m starting this year. Here.” He looked up and then down again, staring at his skates. “But, um...aren’t you...uh, not in school anymore?”

Victor laughed. “I never went here, actually. But, my coach does seminars, teaches some classes. I’m his assistant. I’m Victor, by the way.” He offered a small wave and another bright smile.

“I know.” Yuri’s eyes went wide and he tried to choke on nothing. “I mean, I...um...Yuri. Me. I’m Yuri. Katsuki. Katsuki Yuri.” He looked back down at the ice and wished it would swallow him whole.

“Well, Katsuki Yuri,” Victor said, voice light and full of mirth, “I look forward to working with you. Are you in the first or second section for assessments?”

Hand rubbing his neck, Yuri managed to look up through his lashes. While an amused smile danced on Victor’s face and lit up those (frankly stunning) blue eyes, he seemed genuinely interested in the answer, not mocking or setting Yuri up for some cruel slight.

Somehow, that made it even harder to admit the truth. “Oh, I’m...um, not. I’m supposed to go to the open evaluations next month though?”

Victor frowned, one hand coming up to his lip, the index finger tapping once. “Aren’t those for non-skating majors?”

Yuri nodded shyly, face growing even more red under Victor’s intense regard. “I’m in the dance program.”

Those blue eyes, the same color as fresh ice, continued to bore into Yuri’s own, as if Victor was waiting for Yuri to say or do something specific. When whatever he wanted didn’t happen, his frown grew deeper. “I...see.”

“I, um,” Yuri wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. Something, anything to take that frown from Victor’s face. But he wasn’t even sure why it was there, much less how to fix it, so he was left just flailing for words. “I really liked your long program this year.”

Victor tilted his head slightly and smiled. “Thank you. Are you a fan then?”

Yuri nodded. “Yeah. I...well, I actually started competing after I saw one of your performances. It was beautiful and I...I wanted to make people feel like that.”

Victor moved and rested his elbow on the boards and then his chin on his hand, gaze intense and piercing as he examined Yuri. “That’s very flattering. But why did you stop?”

“Excuse me?”

“You clearly have a lot of talent. Why the dance program instead of skating?”

Yuri flushed again, certain he’d pass out if his blood kept rushing around like this. “I...um...I’m not good enough get into the skating program?”

The frown returned. “Did you try?”

Shaking his head, a rough laugh escaped him. “I didn’t even try to get into the dance program. I just kind of...ended up here? Because of my ballet teacher.”

“You just _ended up_ in the most prestigious dance program in the world?” Victor stared at him for a long moment, and then he burst out laughing, bright, roiling peals that shook his whole body. “Katsuki Yuri, I have a feeling your going to be just full of surprises.”

Embarrassment kept Yuri’s face red, but he couldn’t help the hopeful smile that tugged at his lips. Nothing about this school went as Yuri had expected so far.

  
And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.


	3. No, Really, the Boy Can Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri finds out how exactly he ended up at the school and ends up standing up for Yuri Plisetsky. Also known as, the he day everything started going to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, we are actually, sort of, finally, starting to get to the plot. At least it's visible over the horizon there, I swear.

Nine am Monday morning found Yuri in a large dance studio with twelve other students all in matching black leotards and white tights. Required as per the orientation packet. Ten were incoming freshmen, seven girls and three boys. The last two were Yuri and a tall, dark-skinned boy who had transferred in for Junior year.

The first assessment technically began at 9:30, but it had been heavily suggested in the intro packet that people show up early and stretch beforehand. Most of the people present, including Yuri, did just that. A few, however, used the time differently. The junior stood around assessing everyone else, muttering comments under his breath. A pretty redhead twirled one long lose strand of hair that curled to her chin in her fingers as she batted her eyes at a tall brunette boy. The boy ignored her in lieu of stretching.

No one paid Yuri any attention at all, and he liked that just fine. The less people that noticed him, the longer it’d take for everyone to figure out he didn’t belong here.

At exactly 9:30 Madame Baranovskaya entered the room and called everyone to attention. The minute they’d all taken a place at the barre, she began calling out positions with the cadence of a drill sergeant. Over and over, she ran them through the basics, not stopping to correct or address anyone, but observing everything with eyes hard as diamonds that seemed to miss nothing. After forty minutes she barked out orders for everyone to get a drink and rest for ten minutes. Once they had returned she lined them up.

“You,” she said to the redhead that had been flirting earlier, “are a disaster. No focus, no strength.” She jutted her chin forward like a weapon. “You will be in remedial classes.”

The girl looked like she wanted to argue, but Madame Baranovskaya had already moved on to the next person. “Your extensions are sloppy. Pathetic.”  
  
And the next where she just looked the girl up and down and shook her head before continuing on.

  
By the time she reached Yuri he was already mentally packing his bags to be sent home. “Yuri Katsuki,” she said, as she grabbed his chin and checked his teeth for no discernible reason, “you are not hopeless. You will assist me with teaching the remedial class.”

This didn’t seem to be a question, so Yuri just nodded in acknowledgment. Once she had moved to the next person in line, he remembered how to breathe.

##

Minako left to return to Japan Tuesday morning and she insisted Yuri join her for dinner to say good-bye. And Yuri loved Minako, he did. But after the absolutely grueling day of ballet in the morning followed by three hour and half classes in various other styles everything hurt and Yuri just wanted to sleep for a decade.

Too bad he roomed with Yuri Plisetsky. Returning to his room he discovered the small Russian angry slamming posters on the wall while blaring Russian...metal? Rock? Something loud and aggressive and a little discordant.

“What the fuck do you want?” Plisetsky snapped the second Yuri stepped into the room.  
  
“Um, I live here. Remember?”

This earned him a harsh tongue click and some rolled eyes before the blond turned away and ignored Yuri so hard it felt like a spot light of pure darkness had been set on him.

Suddenly dinner looked more promising, so he grabbed a quick shower, changed and left Little Yuri to his...well, whatever the hell his problem was today.

Which is how Yuri ended up at a bar that happened to serve food with a definitely headed past tipsy Minako. He’d have to remember to swipe her phone before they left and set an alarm so she didn’t pass out and sleep through her flight.

Minako slumped over the table to rest a hand on Yuri’s arm. “I talked to Lilia. She was really impressed with you today.”  
  
“Lilia?” Yuri put his fork down carefully, the alternative throwing it in the air in shock. “You mean Madame Baranovskaya? She...didn’t seem impressed with _anyone_.”  
  


Minako shrugged and drained half her beer glass in one go. “She’s like that. Tough. But, she really likes you, Yuri. I mean she practically demanded you come here after she saw your recital videos.”

“When did _that_ happen?” Yuri gaped at his ballet instructor. He knew something had to have led to him being accepted in the program, but Minako had, until now, been enigmatic about the details. “Why did that happen?”

“She and I used to work together. We’ve kept in touch.” Minako finished her drink, holding up the empty to request another. “A few weeks ago she complained on video chat about the abysmal lack of talent surrounding her, so I sent her your videos. Next thing I knew she’d flooded my email with all the forms for you to come here.” Minako grinned. “I told her you’d probably rather find a skating program. She nearly had a stroke. But, it worked, you get to skate, too!”

“Oh.” Yuri blinked, trying to sort out his reactions to this. Between shock, disbelief, and wonder he ended up somewhere around uncomfortably numb. “I hope I don’t disappoint her.”

Minako snorted. “Yuri, she’s already got you assisting in classes. I think you’re good.”

“And I know you’re drunk,” Yuri muttered, finally returning to his food though he found his appetite gone.

“I am, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong!” Minako fell over gleefully, sliding under the table and falling asleep in seconds.

With a sigh, Yuri took care of the bill, got her back to her hotel (with the alarm set _and_ a wake-up call scheduled), and returned to his room. Fortunately, Little Yuri had gone somewhere, and the room was blissfully silent as Yuri slipped into bed and into the welcoming arms of slumber.

##

Yuri woke to Plisetsky throwing things around the room and cursing. He figured he’d better get used to it, but hey, at least he probably wouldn’t need an alarm anymore. Groaning, he sat up, and gathered his shower essentials before stopping and looking at the younger boy. “You okay?”

Little Yuri stared at him as if Yuri had sprouted antennae, but after a very long moment he flopped into his desk chair, murmuring something that sounded like a question, but said so softly it could have just been a growl.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said,” Plisetsky snarled, “do you think I look like a girl?”

“What? No.” Yuri stared, utterly confused as to what he could have done to give Little Yuri that impression.

“Right! I told that asshole he was full of shit, but he just would not _shut up_! I hate him so much, like more than I hate everyone else combined, which is a whole fucking lot.”

Okay, Little Yuri was an aggressive, mean, dangerous ball of spite, but giving him grief for being small was just a dick move, and the blonde deserved better. He should at the least get shit for all the things he _actually_ did to deserve it, not some superficial nonsense. No one deserved that. Yuri felt his jaw tighten and he pulled back his shoulders and put a hand on Plisetsky’s shoulder. “Who? Who said that?”

Shrugging off Yuri’s hand, Plisetsky hunched his shoulder up and hid behind his bangs. “Why, you want to go high-five him or something?”

“No, I want to go give him an enumerated list of all the ways he’s a short-sighted asshole who should never so much as look at my roommate again.”

“Oh.” Plisetsky stared at him, mouth hanging open slightly. “I—I don’t need _you_ defending me, Katsuki. I can handle myself.” But, it came out without much heat, almost like out of habit rather than intention.

Yuri ran his hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face and buying him a moment to regain his calm. He _hated_ bullies. “I’m sure you can, but if you ever want back-up, well, you know where I live.”

Plisetsky just scowled and turned away, but as Yuri opened the door to head to the bathroom he heard the boy call after him, “Hey, Katsuki, you should call me Yura. To avoid confusion. Because having the same name fucking sucks.”

  
  
Keeping his face turned away so Yura couldn’t see his smile, Yuri raised a hand in acknowledgment. “Sure, Yura. Whatever you want.”

  
  
Later, Yuri would pin this as the moment when everything went so very, very wrong.


	4. Touch and Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri isn't always awkward and anxious. Sometimes he's mad.

Despite being worked nigh onto exhaustion all week in his dance assessment, Yuri still managed to sneak in time at the open rink a few times. Not as much as he wanted, but Madame Baranovskaya set him to actually running a remedial ballet technique seminar for the incoming freshman to take before classes started in addition to his own evaluations _._

Plus, he’d gotten his schedule for the semester, and it included lessons in contemporary—which he’d studied a little and didn’t worry him—hip hop—which he had only the barest familiarity with—and _pole dancing—_ which he’d thought was a mistake until Madame Baranovskaya explained with stern finality that danseurs needed core strength and grace so he would be taking this class to expand his limits. Now, technically, he didn’t need to practice any of those genres ahead of time. The classes were for beginners. But, Yuri knew himself. Going in completely blind meant an increased chance of panic attacks. So, he looked things up online and put in extra time in the studio.

Which is where he’d been headed when Yura texted him asking if he could swing by the main rink and drop off some chap stick. Kind of a strange request, but hey, it was on the way and Yuri really wanted an excuse to see the place. Which he’d mentioned in passing to Yura that morning, so, maybe not so strange.

Probably not ideal he’d be stepping into a cold ice rink in grey leggings and a white t shirt one wash from being rags, but beggars and choosers and all that.

The rink was enormous, state-of-the-art, and gorgeous. The minute Yuri saw it he wanted to pack a bag and move in. On the ice several people were practicing, all in different corners. He recognized Phichit, and grinned when the Thai man spotted him and waved extravagantly.

Waving back, he stepped up to the wall as Phichit skated over.

“Yuri! Hi!” Only then did Phichit seem to take in Yuri’s outfit because his eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed slightly. “Aren’t you cold?”

Yuri looked down sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, um, well, I’m not staying long. I just need to give Yura his lip balm.”

“Yura?”

“Yuri Plisetsky? Do you know where he is?”

Phichit blinked. “You call him Yura? Why?”

“He asked me to.” Yuri scanned the rink, but the neither of the other skaters had blond hair, so clearly not his roommate. “Did he leave already?”

“No,” Phichit continued to stare at Yuri like a math equation that refused to be solved. “He’s in the locker room. JJ accidentally,” Phichit rolled his eyes and made air quotes, “spilled juice on him.”

Yuri felt his shoulders go back as he tensed. He knew someone at the rink had been bothering Yura, but the younger man always refused to tell Yuri who or go into details, always declaring he could take care of his own problems. And he could. Yuri had no doubt about that. But that didn’t mean he’d pass up the chance to help when it got dropped in his lap.

Jaw tight, Yuri looked around again. “Which one is JJ?”

“Ah,” Phichit stared at Yuri, “I’ll tell you if you hand me my phone.”

“What?”

The Thai boy gestured to a bag near Yuri. “It’s right there. Please?”

Yuri took the sparkly red phone from the top of the bag and handed it over with a confused frown. “This one?”

“Yep! Now, do that clenched jaw, determined face thing again!”

“I don’t--” He stopped as he heard Yura’s voice coming into the rink. The words weren’t clear yet, but the tone of the boy with him, mocking and aggressive, came through just fine.

Yuri took a deep breath and turned to go support his roommate. He heard the clicking of Phichit’s phone follow him.

##

Yuri had approached from behind Yura, neither of the two noticing him arrive, too lost in their, for lack of a better word, conversation.

“I’m just saying,” the taller, dark-haired boy said, tone smarmy, “it wouldn’t hurt to change your attitude. Little girls shouldn’t be so mean, you know.” And then he reached out to _touch_ Yura, and Yuri had enough.

“No.” Yuri’s hand shot out over Yura’s shoulder, years of dancer’s reflexes giving him both precision and speed as he caught the other man’s wrist in a vice grip. “You do _not_ get to put your hands on him.”

Yura whirled, bumping his chin on Yuri’s chest. “The hell, Yuri? I told you I had this!”

Yuri released the other boy’s—JJ presumably—wrist and stepped back, but did not take his eyes off the taller guy. “I know, Yura.” He continued to lock eyes for one more long moment before he turned his gaze onto his roommate, face softening into a sheepish smile. “I just...well...”

He’d just more or less picked a fight with a perfect stranger. And now he wanted to run and hide under his bed for a week. Or punch JJ in the face. Or both. Because Yura, for all his aggression and foul language was Yuri’s _friend._ And JJ was an asshole.

With an eye roll large enough to give _Yuri_ a headache, Yura huffed and grabbed his arm and pulled him away towards the boards. “It’s fine, I guess. You did bring my chap stick, right? Because if not--”  
  
Yuri chuckled and held up the tube of ginger lip balm from the pocket on his t-shirt. “Right here, Tiger. Put the claws away.”

“Yeah, well,” Yura snatched the tube and turned away, looking over his shoulder with a glower, “thanks, I guess.”

Mari did this, too. Hid genuine sentiment in a facade of toughness. Yuri knew the signs, knew Yura meant the words for more than just dropping off a forgotten item. And he also knew Yura would die rather than have Yuri acknowledge it. So, he didn’t. Instead, he just shot a fond smile at the younger boy and offered a quiet, “Any time.”

And if Yuri ‘accidentally’ shoulder bumped JJ hard enough to make him stumble as he left, well, no one had to tell Yura.


	5. So Begins the Tangled Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit thinks Yuri and Yura are dating. He's not the only one. 
> 
> Yura is surprisingly okay with this.

Yuri and Yura had just sat down to lunch at one of the rare four-person tables when Phichit slid into the seat next to Yuri. “So,” Peach said with a grin, “how long have you two been dating anyway?”

It took Yuri a moment to respond, being somewhat busy choking on his salad. He stared wide-eyed instead and hoped that relayed his utter bewilderment at the question. Dating? Yura barely refrained from murdering Yuri in his sleep. And Yuri full expected him to show none of that restraint in maiming Phichit for even daring to think he’d stoop to being involved with someone like Yuri.

“None of your fucking business, hamster boy.”

And, yeah, Yura snarled, but that was a surprisingly...restrained reaction. And not at all the clear-cut denial it should have been. What?

Phichit looked from Yuri to Yura, and his grin widened. “So, that means you _are_ dating! I knew it!”  
  


Voice hoarse and barely audible for his near-death experience, he managed to choke out, “Actually, see--”  
  
A sharp pain in his shin cut him off. Yura had kicked him. Hard. Yuri stared at him, maybe even to yell, but when he met his roommates eyes they were...pleading?

The Hell?

“What was that, Yuri?” Phichit asked, practically vibrating in his chair. “Come on, you can tell me. We’re besties!”

“When the fuck did _that_ happen?”

Yuri kind of wondered the same thing. Not that he minded. He liked Peach. It’s just they hadn’t really spent much time together, just a couple lunches and one random meeting in the coffee shop. Not exactly the foundation of a life-time friendship.

Apparently Phichit disagreed. He shot Yura a beaming smile as he grabbed Yuri’s arm. “As soon as we met, duh! Somethings are just meant to be.”

“You’re a fucking lunatic.” Yuri tossed his fork down and stood. “Come on, Yuri. The food here is shit. There’s a Japanese place down the street that has that damn katsudon shit you won’t stop talking about.”

Yura used his name. Actually called him Yuri. Not pig or loser or even as sometimes happened on good days, Katsuki. But, Yuri. That never happened. What. The. Actual. Fuck?

“Oh, um, okay.” Yuri gave Phichit an apologetic look as he disentangled his arm and got up. “We’ll catch up later?”

“Absolutely! And when we do, Yuri, I want to know everything!”  
  
Yuri nodded as Yura _grabbed his hand_ and dragged him out of the cafeteria. He kind of wanted to know, too.

##

Once away from prying eyes or ears Yuri pulled Yura to a stop by their attached hands and just looked at him.

Yura blushed. Which had to be a sign of the apocalypse or something. “So, yeah, JJ apparently thinks we’re dating or something, and it shut him the fuck up so I kind of didn’t bother correcting him. He’s an asshole anyway, so whatever.”

“You _want_ people to think we’re together? Yura, you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Yura said with an eye roll. “Or, well, at least I hate you less than most people.” He poked a finger in Yuri’s face. “Which does _not_ mean I want to actually date you. I just want to skate in fucking peace, and apparently JJ’s fucking scared of you or something. Fuck if I know why. You’d run and hide from a stiff breeze if it smiled and said something nice to you.”

“I think sentient winds would be a reasonable thing to avoid regardless of what they had to say.” Yuri crossed his arms and smiled down at his friend. “This seriously makes your life easier?”

“I wouldn’t be associated with a loser like you if it didn’t.” He sighed, stomping one foot. “Look, I get it’s kind of weird, but there’s reasons for you to go along with it, too. Yakov is my adopted dad, and if he actually notices you—which he will if he thinks we’re dating—he can get you moved to the skating program where you fucking belong.”

“Yura, that’s not how I want to get into the skating program. I--”  
  
“It wouldn’t be _because_ you’re dating me. Yakov hates shit like that. But, he’s also kind of a dick that barely notices anyone not labeled ‘his’ skaters, even when he’s supposed to be fucking teaching them. He lets Victor do all of that. This way he’ll actually _see_ you. Once that happens, no way in hell he lets you fester in the fucking dance program.”

“I do like dancing, you know. And also, even if he did notice I’d still have to be good enough--”  
  
Yuri kicked him in the shin. “I fucking hate you.”

“Well, that bodes well for our fake relationship.” Yuri smiled though.

Yura shoved his hands in his pockets and resumed walking. “Look, even if you didn’t get into the skate program—which is fucking ridiculous, but whatever—there’s all kinds of events and shit where skaters get to bring their families and significant others. Open skates and shit. Apparently it helps morale.” The venom in his voice made it clear what he thought of that. “Oh, and you’d have to be there to help with my choreography anyway.”  
  
Yuri stopped. “Wait. What? So, I’m dating you _and_ choreographing for you? How exactly is that part of the deal?”

Yuri grinned, sharp and cold. “You’re a fucking dancer, right? You get extra credit for that shit. Plus, JJ will shit himself with you around.”  
  
“Oh, well, if it’s just to be petty and spiteful.” Yuri continued walking, reaching out a hand to Yura.  
  
“So, you’ll do it? Really?” Yura stared at the hand like it had been dipped in roadkill, but his voice sounded almost hopeful.  
  
“Yura, I was going to do it the minute you agreed it made your life easier.”

“Then why the fuck,” Yura snarled as he squeezed Yuri’s hand like a vice, “did you make go on all this time, you asshole?”

Yuri chuckled. “When have I ever been able to stop you? Now, come on. I believe I was promised some katsudon.”

Yura fumed all the way to the restaurant, but he never let go of Yuri’s hand.


	6. Yuri's Very Confusing Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, Victor still exists. This is a major complication for Yuri.

Madame Baranovskaya approached at the beginning of the last week of his dance assessment. “Yuri Katsuki, come to my office after you have changed.”

Of course, she did this at the beginning of morning session, leaving Yuri four whole hours to ponder why he’d been called. Had one of the freshman he worked with complained and demanded he be removed from the program? Had he inadvertently broken some rule and was about to get expelled? Had Madame Baranovskaya finally realized he never belonged here in the first place and wanted him gone?

Probably that last one. Yuri’d been waiting for that. Still, why not tell him before the grueling morning class? Regardless, once showered and changed, he promptly went to the small, tasteful office on the second floor and knocked softly. “You wanted to see me, Madame Baranovskaya?

The woman waved one graceful hand in response, gesturing to a chair. Which Yuri managed to get to and sit in without fleeing or tripping over his feet. An accomplishment given how hard his heart beat against his chest.

She steepled her fingers and her hard green eyes locked only Yuri like a cat on prey. “You know the next two weeks are usually for dancers to take intensives on weaknesses in their technique or to explore what other styles they may wish for their general requirements?”

“Yes, Madame.” While Yuri was far from the only student using the flexible studies orientation window to be assessed in a different program—apparently, as he now understood, the first step in seeking a minor in an ‘off’ discipline—it didn’t happen often. And even more rarely successfully. Each program just proved too difficult to allow a loss of complete focus.

“But, you are scheduled for ice skating.”

It wasn’t a question, but Yuri nodded anyway.

“You know you do not have to do this, yes? Okukawa’s love for the sport does not need to be your burden to bear. I can have your schedule rearranged.”  
  
“Um...” Yuri blinked. Was he so bad Madame Baranovskaya felt he needed that time to try and catch up? Would he be asked to leave if he refused? Did he have to give up skating entirely to stay here?

She frowned, eyes never leaving Yuri’s face even as he turned it way to look down at his hands. “If you are worried about disappointing your mentor, I can explain it to her.”  
  
“No, it’s not...I mean,” Yuri looked back up. “I love dancing, but I always feel the most myself on the ice. I’d...rather not have to give it up just yet.”

Dark eyebrows rose, the rest of her face still. It gave Madame Baranovskaya a stretched, startled look. Then she clicked her tongue. “The ice is a waste of your beauty, but so be it.” She flicked her wrist twice, as if shaking off a bug. “Just do not let it interfere with your dancing. I do not go easy on my proteges.”  
  
Yuri’s eyes widened. Protege? What? That...there must be a mistake. “Madame Baranovskaya?”

“Lilia.” She locked eyes with him. “Outside of the studio, you may call me Lilia. Now, go. I expect you back to lead the remedial classes in an hour. And you will not let yourself get sloppy during this,” she waved a hand again dismissively, “skating you insist on doing.”

“Yes, Mada—Lilia.” Yuri stood and then just hesitated there, frozen, for one long second, before he turned and fled.

##

That night Yuri did what he always did when frazzled. He went skating. Tonight a few other people used the small open rink, so he’d been unable to go as full out as he might have liked, but that was fine. He had ideas for Yuri’s short program choreography to sort though. He wanted to give his friend something fiery, but with a backbone of vulnerability. Something that really showed the world the Yura he knew.

Lost in the complicated step sequence that hovered at the edge between perfect and not-quite-right, Yuri only noticed how much time had passed when he paused for a desperately needed drink of water and felt eyes on him. He looked around with a puzzled frown, registering for the first time that everyone else on the ice had left, before his gaze finally locked on the tall, silver-haired man sitting on the bench next to Yuri’s bag.   
  
Victor.

Yuri hadn’t seen him in weeks, had been convinced the older boy had left, off to some exhibition or competition and out of Yuri’s life for good. Never mind he knew Victor helped with the assessments. Logic had no place in Yuri’s anxiety. He felt his face flush as moved over to get his water bottle, trying so hard not to stare he nearly fell face first onto the ice. Should he say hi? Pretend not to have noticed him? Flee?

“Good evening, Yuri,” Victor said, voice a husky purr. “You are a difficult person to find.”

Yuri’s head shot up, mouth falling open. “I am? I mean, I just...I...hi.”

Victor laughed. “Hi.” He stepped forward and offered Yuri the bottle that had rested on the bench. “Thirsty?”

Words crowded up in Yuri’s throat, not a single one making it through the traffic jam, so he just nodded and reached for the drink. His skin tingled where his fingers grazed Victor’s, energy shooting from the point of contact all the way to his spine. Heat suffused his face and pooled in his stomach.

After waiting for Yuri to drain half the container, Victor spoke again, “Are you working on something new? I didn’t recognize that from any of your videos.”

Yuri took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could do this. He could have a normal conversation with Victor. Nikiforov. His idol and single hottest man alive. Really. Two more deep breaths and Yuri managed a weak smile. It felt fragile and sickly, but it’d have to do.

“Um...it is, yeah. I—wait. Videos?”

Victor nodded. He still stood far too close for Yuri’s blood pressure, almost close enough to feel the heat of his body where the edge of the rink didn’t stand between them. Yuri had never wanted a half wall gone more in his life.

“Of your competitions in Japan. Much like you, not easy to find but well worth the effort.” Victor leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting on Yuri’s cheek. “Tell me, Yuri, why did you never go to larger competitions?”

Nope. Yuri could not process any of this, not with Victor so close and intense and interested and _why?_ Swallowing, Yuri skated backwards slightly. Not enough to be rude, but creating some space where he could regain his composure and try to act like an actual functioning human being.

“Lots of reasons, I guess.” He shrugged slightly. “My coach wasn’t really experienced enough for it, I wasn’t good enough, I didn’t want to burden my family with the costs--”

Victor hoped up so that he sat on the rink wall, long legs crossed and hands on his knees. Yuri had no idea how he managed to stay balanced that way. “Yuri, you skate better than half my competitors in seniors. You were definitely good enough. Tell me about your coach.”  
  
“Huh? Why?” Yuri realized he still had his water bottle in hand, but putting it away meant skating back over to Victor, and that was not happening. Yuri didn’t trust himself to not trip and end up with his face in the other man’s lap or something equally...embarrassing.

“I’m curious.” Victor kept _looking_ at him, blue eyes never leaving Yuri’s face, a small, butterfly smile dancing at edges of his lips.

Yuri wanted to catch that smile. Preferably with his lips. And that caused another wave of heat to take over his face. His voice, when he managed to speak, came out squeaky as a neglected screen door. “Um, Minako. She runs a ballet studio back home. I...I studied dance with her. She liked ice skating so suggested I try.”

Victor raised one elegant eyebrow. “Your coach is a ballet teacher? But, then how did she teach you what you needed to know, jumps for example?”

“She didn’t. I watched videos and...kind of faked it? I guess?”

“You,” Victor shook his head, somehow _still_ not looking away, “I was right when we first met. You are just full of surprises, Yuri Katsuki. So, tell me, do you have a new coach now? Someone at the school perhaps?”

“Why would I? I’m not competing anymore, remember?”

Head tilted and one finger tapping against his lips, Victor moved his gaze from Yuri’s face finally, but only to let it dance from Yuri’s feet all the way to back to his face. He lingered in his perusal, leaving Yuri paralyzed and flushed in the meantime.

“You sure about that, Yuri? People don’t usually come up with new routines to not perform.”

“Oh, um…” Yuri stared at his skates and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s not for me. I’m um...putting something together for my...uh….” Yuri’s brain froze. He and Yura hadn’t been pretending to date for long, and neither had actually referred to the other as anything, just letting people see them together and assume. How the hell did he end that sentence? Especially with Victor looking at him like _that_ and maybe even...flirting?

No. That was ridiculous. Yuri didn’t even exist in the same time zone as someone like Victor Nikiforov, much less league. The older guy might just be naturally flirty. Interviews Yuri had seen supported that. So, yeah, this...it wasn’t a _thing._ Certainly not something worth potentially betraying Yura’s friendship for.

“Your what, Yuri? The open assessment? Because if so, I should warn you we’ll be giving everyone the same routine to learn. Yakov likes to start everyone in the same place.”

Yuri shook his head. “No. I knew that. It’s in the orientation materials. This,” he kind of gestured at the ice, using the motion as an excuse to move just a little further way, “I’m working on a short program for my...” he swallowed, closed his eyes, and shored up his nerve, “for my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Suddenly Victor moved, back on his feet and the wall back between them. “I see. Well, he’s very lucky. I hope he’s good enough though. That was a very...complicated step sequence.”

“Um, thank you? I--” But whatever Yuri intended to say, and hell if he knew what that was, it didn’t matter. Victor had already turned and was out the door.

Yuri tried to pretend he didn’t already miss him.


	7. Well, This is Getting Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri broods, Yura issues an invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was pointed out that Yuri is kind of a jerk from an outside point of view. Which--I don't disagree. But, I figured, hey, I had the time, let's kind of sort of address why and build character at the same time.
> 
> Also, I am desperately trying to keep this single POV, but...I suspect I will fail because I need Victor being dramatic in my life.

Yuri and Phichit planned to grab dinner off-campus somewhere, but between Phichit taking a nasty tumble on the ice and Yuri spending an extra three hours in the studio trying to correct his turn out and extensions after Lilia called him a sloppy mess at assessment, neither felt much up to walking around. So, instead they flopped down side-by-side on Phichit’s bed and argued over which one got to order delivery. They decided whoever actually placed the call picked the place, and suddenly Phichit had a lot more energy. He really liked making fun of the so-called Thai food from the, of all things, pseudo-Italian place on the corner.

Feeling slowly returned to Yuri’s feet as he stared at the ceiling. It’d been a brutal day, not least of all because one of the freshman had lost her shit on Yuri when he corrected her posture. He was pretty sure no one actually believed he’d slept with Lilia to get into the school, but the class sure had no shortage of colorful theories on why he got to be the golden boy while they worked their asses off.

The fact Yuri spent just as much, and usually more time in the studio than any of them impressed no one. Not even Yuri. He’d always worked longer and harder than the people around him to make up for a natural lack of talent. And they kind of weren’t wrong. He had only gotten in because of Minako. It really wasn’t fair when you thought about it.

“Hey, Peach,” Yuri said softly once his friend was off the phone, “what was the application process for the skating program like?”

“Hmm?” Phichit sat on the bed next to Yuri, back to the wall as he finished looking at something on Instagram. “Oh, well, Celestino did most of the paperwork. He sent in videos of my routines, a list of my competitions, that sort of thing. School transcripts, too. I guess they hold auditions, but I wasn’t able to make those so I had to send more videos of the routines they provided. Why?”

“Just curious, I guess.” He sighed, as Phichit just waited. He did this, got Yuri talking just to fill the silence. “Some of the freshman think I cheated to get into the dance program, and I kind of think they’re right.”

“Um, okay.” Phichit looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Did you have someone else dance in the videos they reviewed before letting you in?”

“Of course not! But, Madame Baranovskaya knows my teacher and--”  
  
“Lilia Baranovskaya is a dance legend. She knows everyone. You know, I heard she refused to let her own nephew into the program? So, yeah.” Phichit nudged Yuri’s shoulder. “You got in because you’re a good dancer. Apparently, really good. Own it.”

“But--”  
  
“Nope.” Phichit hit him with a pillow. “You work hard, and I’ve seen how you are on the ice. Your musicality is insane. You. Are. Awesome. Deal with it.”

Yuri sighed. “I...know. Sometimes. I mean when I’m actually dancing I don’t even think about it. But, then I just...fall apart.”  
  
Arms wrapped around Yuri in a tight hug. “I get it. Anxiety sucks. So, is that why you don’t skate? Because you’re pretty good at that, too.”

“Kind of, but also...seniors is not the same as juniors. I could keep up there without the resources and stuff, but the top skaters, they have multiple quads and professional choreographers, and real coaches. All I have is a lot of time to practice.”  
  
“And talent.” Phichit looked at him seriously. “Everyone sees it. Why don’t you?”

Yuri picked up a pillow and curled around it like a hedgehog. “Because then it hurts more to not be able to do it.” He looked at Phichit with big eyes, hands trembling. He’d never admitted this to anyone, maybe not even himself. It scared him to do so now. But, Peach asked, and his friend deserved an answer. “If I’m not good enough, if I’d never make it anyway, it’s not so bad that my family can’t afford all the things I’d need to make it happen. That I’m never going to get to even _try_.”

“Oh, Yuri.” Phichit slid down and wrapped his arms around him.

They just laid there until the food arrived. And then they watched feel-good movies and played silly games until both had to go to sleep. It didn’t solve anything, but somehow it made Yuri feel a little better all the same.

##

“So,” Yura said as he burst into their shared room, fresh from skating practice, “Victor’s being a melodramatic drama queen again because some boy broke his heart or whatever and Yakov wants to have a ‘family dinner’ tomorrow to shut him the fuck up. You’re invited.”

Yuri looked up from rubbing salve into his feet. “Why?”

“Boyfriend, remember?” Yura rolled his eyes. “Yakov wants to meet you, make sure you’re a good influence. Lilia’s going to be there, too. I guess to make sure you’re not tainting my beauty or whatever bullshit she’s on today.”

“Oh.” Yuri considered, trying to process several elements of this conversation at once. “Okay, first, Victor? And also, when you say Lilia, you do mean Lilia Baranovskaya, right?”

“Right, I haven’t explained my fucked up family.” Yura sat on Yuri’s bed and grabbed the salve from Yuri’s hand. “Stretch out, idiot. You’ll cramp up doing it like that.” Once Yuri had done as ordered and Yura had taken over applying the lotion, way harder than Yuri would have, he continued. “So, okay, do you know who Victor Nikiforov is?”

Yuri grabbed a pillow to hide his blush. “Everyone does.”  
  
“Yeah, well, you had no idea who I was, and you’re kind of a clueless dumb-ass so, I had to check. Anyway, Yakov adopted him, too, so he’s basically my idiot big brother.”  
  
Yuri squeaked. “You, um, you want me to have dinner with Victor Nikiforov? Who is your _brother_?”

“No,” Yura pressed into the heel of Yuri’s foot with brutal and totally unnecessary force. “I want you to have dinner with a pathetic airhead attention whore and the rest of my dysfunctional family. Which includes the harpy previously known as Yakov’s wife and my probably borderline alcoholic mass of poor coping mechanisms coach.”

“If my feet promise to never do it again will you please stop trying to murder them?” Deflection. Yuri was good at deflection when panic crept to near.

Yura glanced down. “Pretty sure you’re doing that all on your own. Jesus, Katsudon. The hell did you do?”

“Um, a four hour dance assessment this morning, a three hour remedial session this afternoon, two hours of hip hop practice, and then a little bit of skating after dinner?”

“You’re fucking insane. You do this every day?”

Yuri shrugged. “It varies a little, but more or less. And you work just as hard, Yura. I’ve seen your schedule.”  
  
“Which is why you get to do my feet next.” He tossed the balm to Yuri and stuck his feet in his lap. “And we’ll both take the weekend off. I don’t need you getting your ass injured before you finish my short program. Besides, you’ll need time to recover from the headache that is Victor. Trust me.”

“I’m guessing I don’t actually get a say in this?” Yuri gently tended to Yuri’s bruised feet, keeping his eyes on that so the other boy wouldn’t, hopefully, see his blush.

Yura didn’t even bother responding. The answer was obvious anyway.


	8. That Could Have Gone Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri meets Yura's family. It gets weird fast. And dinner hasn't even been served yet.

At lunch Phichit slid into the seat across from Yuri and stole one of his carrot sticks. “You know, they have fries today.” He gave Yuri a mischievous grin. “Garlic Parmesan fries.”

“Why do they even serve that at a school for athletes?” Yuri pouted down at his chicken breast and carrots. “It’s just mean.”

Phichit laughed. “Want me to grab you some?”

“Yes, but no.” Yuri viciously stabbed a carrot. “I need to be good since I have no idea what’s being served at dinner.” He considered the carrot with a dread gaze. “Though, it’s at Yakov’s and Victor and Yuri are both skaters...It’ll probably be diet-friendly, right?”

The fork sounded strangely loud as it clattered against the table. “You’re having dinner with Plisetsky’s family?”

Yuri shrugged as an excuse to bury his face in his shoulder and hide. “Yes? That’s...not unusual though...because, well, dating?”

Phichit nods, but he won’t meet Yuri’s eyes for some reason. “Just surprised, I guess. You haven’t been together long, and it’s kind of a big step. And, Other Yuri didn’t mention it this morning.”

“Oh? Do you and Yura hang out at skating now? I didn’t think you liked him much.”

Phichit blushed. _Blushed._ “He’s not as bad as I thought. Which is good because if he were I’d have to kill him for being awful to my bestie.”

“Right.” Yuri took a bite of chicken and chewed slowly. He really wanted to ask about that blush, but if it meant what he thought, well, he kind of wanted to deal with that sometime not on the same day he had to see Victor again. At dinner. While pretending to date his brother. Who Yuri now suspected his best friend might have a crush on.

Nope. Just. No. So, he pulled a Phichit, said nothing, and hoped the other boy would fill in the silence. Preferably not by declaring his undying love for Yuri’s not real boyfriend.

“Sooo…” Phichit complied, “what are you wearing to this dinner?”  
  
Yuri’s eyes went wide. He’d been so wrapped up in _going_ to the dinner he hadn’t thought to ask Yura about a dress code. “Um...uh...clothes?”

“Oh, my poor, sweet, delicate child.” Phichit’s eyes were kind, but his smile shark-like. “You don’t have an afternoon session today, right?”

“No. I was going to--”  
  
“Good.” He say back and looked pleased. “We’re going shopping.”

Yuri pinched the bridge of his nose then went to get the garlic fries after all. He’d need them for this.

##

Yuri suspected letting Phichit dressed him was a mistake. Yura walking into the room, taking one look at him, and sounding like he’d decided to hack up a hairball confirmed it. But, while everything fit a bit more...snugly…than Yuri might have chosen, he hadn’t thought the dark blue skinny jeans and deep purple button down looked that bad. Even if the shirt stopped having functional buttons right below his collarbones and ended up being too short to tuck in.

The hair gel, contacts, and _eyeliner_ Yuri agreed probably went too far. “I can change,” he mumbled, already heading for his closet.

  
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Yura threw his bag on his desk chair. “I’m going to grab a shower. Also, since when the hell do you even own something that isn’t three sizes too big?”

  
“Oh,” Yuri blushed. “Phichit--”  
  
“Figures. Just,” he kind of waved in Yuri’s general direction, “don’t fuck that up until Victor sees you at least. Asshole went on for a damn hour about wanting to meet my ‘little boyfriend.’ I hope he swallows his fucking tongue when he sees you.”  
  
“Yura, that’s not--”  
  
“Don’t. We do not have fucking time for me to play ‘Prove to Katsudon He’s Hot and Half the School Wants to Fuck Him.’ Just, sit or something and I’ll be right back.”

Yuri blinked. He sat. And then they were heading to dinner.

##

Victor did not swallow his tongue when Yuri arrived because it turned out he’d had something come up and would be arriving late. If Yuri started breathing easier as soon as he heard that, it didn’t last long. Because Lilia was there. Right on time. And...apparently Yura hadn’t actually told anyone who he’d started dating because she looked at him like he’d suddenly sprouted wings.

“Yuri,” she said as Yura hung up her coat, “I was not expecting to see you here. How is it you and Yura came to know one another?”

“Good evening, Lilia.” Yuri glanced over at Yura before offering the ballet instructor a shy smile. “Um, we were actually assigned to be roommates.”

A whole lot of things happened all at once at that. Yakov screeched something angry in Russian—and where the hell did he even come from?--Lilia folded her arms and scowled. At Yura. Who hunched up like a pissed off cat and hissed at her.

“You are living with your boyfriend?” Lilia raised one elegant eyebrow, but her posture remained rigidly disapproving.”  
  
Yakov continued to yell. No one paid the slightest bit of attention to him.

“Don’t start, hag,” Yura snapped. “It’s not fucking like that, and even if it were, it’s none of your damn business.” Then he whirled and looked at Yuri. “And since when the fuck do you call her Lilia?”

“Um, she asked me too? Before. Um...”  
  
“Mr. Katsuki is my protege. I fully expect him to excel and become one of, if not the, best male dancers this world has ever seen. You,” she pointed a sharp finger at Yura, “will not distract him from this.”

Yuri stared at Lilia. Yura stared at Yuri. “Shit. How fucking good of a dancer are you?”  
  
“Very,” Lilia answered for Yuri. “That’s why he is in the _dance_ program.”

For some reason she directed that last sentence at Yakov. Who was too busy turning purple—and Yuri feared having a heart attack—to respond.

Yura looked between his two parental figures for a long moment, then he clicked his tongue and threw up his hands. “Come on,” he took Yuri’s hand, “I’ll introduce you to Potya. She’s the only one here worth talking to anyway.”

##

Given the...eventful arrival, the time before Yakov served dinner ended up being relatively calm. Yakov regained the ability to communicate in full sentences, and use English. They sat in the living room while dinner cooked, and the four of them discussed the school, dancing, skating. It was nice.

And then Yakov decided to chime in with, “When are you looking for new roommates?”

Yura threw a pillow at him hard enough to rock the old man’s head back. “Fuck that. Katsudon’s barely fucking tolerable as it is. I’m not risking getting stuck with some asshole that’s even worse.”

“Gee, Yura,” Yuri said with a wry smile and an eye roll, “you say the sweetest things. Remind me why we’re dating again?”

Which was, of course, the exact second Victor decided to show up and wander into the room. “Hey, sorry, I---Yuri?” He stared, eyes shooting between the two boys that shared a name, cheeks flushing. “I, uh, didn’t know you’d be here?”

As Yuri suddenly found the carpet on the floor utterly fascinating, Yura glared at Victor. “I told you this morning he’d be here, dumb-ass. Seriously, are you going fucking senile?”

“Yura.” Yuri sighed as he pinched his nose. He wanted to ask his friend to be nice, but he realized that’d accomplish less than nothing. Except maybe make this whole situation somehow _more_ awkward.

Victor continued to stare. “You said you were bringing your...” He blinked. Twice. Slowly. Gaze finally, finally leaving Yuri’s face, to bore into Yura instead. “You’re dating Yuri Katsuki?” His voice came out barely above a whisper.

Yuri figured Victor assumed his brother deserved better, but it was kind of rude to be so obvious about it. He went back to staring at the carpet. It was a nice carpet. Blue and maroon with white accents. Very tasteful. Soothing.

“Wait,” Yura grabbed Yuri’s arm. Hard. “Do you two fucking _know_ each other?”

“Um,” Yuri looked up at Yura and then offered Victor a shy, apologetic smile, “a little. We’ve talked. At the rink. A couple times.”

“You might have fucking mentioned that, Katsudon!"

  
  
Yuri shrugged. “It didn’t...I mean I didn’t even know he was your brother until yesterday? And it’s not like we know know each other. He...saw me skate. Offered some feedback.”

“Saw you...” Yura trailed off and looked at Victor. Who’d remained more or less statue-still in his spot just inside the doorway. “Oh.” Yura looked as if someone had just punched him. “Well, shit.”

Suddenly, Victor burst into motion, hands waving like hummingbirds, a cloyingly fake smile in place. “Well, I need a drink!” His voice came out way too loud and his face had turned a (rather beautiful if Yuri said so himself) dusky rose color. “I’m just going to go and...get that. Bye!”

Mouth agape, Yuri watched Victor Nikiforov flee his own living room. Yuri looked around to find Yakov pointedly looking into his glass, Yura staring at his hands, and Lilia pointedly glowering at a wall. So obviously and precisely as far from Yuri, Yura, or where Victor had just left it had to be deliberate. No one spoke.

It all left Yuri feeling as if he’d missed something. Something important. What exactly had just happened?


	9. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of dinner, and Yuri's hopes for a relationship with Victor. For now.

“So,” Victor said after twenty minutes of everyone eating in awkward silence, “the program you were working on is for Yura then?”

Yuri looked up from his food, ears going red. “Oh, um, yes.” Yuri glanced over at Yura, but he offered no assistance.

  
Coward.

Victor nodded, smile tight. “It’s very good, what I saw.” He turned to Yura. “Do you like it?”

“Don’t know,” Yura glared in Yuri’s direction, “Katsudon hasn’t shown it to _me_ yet.”  
  


“Oh, for,” Yuri rubbed his eyes, “I didn’t show it to him either. He showed up while I was working on it. And I told you, I want to finish it first so you can see the whole thing at once.”

Looking down, Victor swept the hair his bangs out of his eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

“It’s fine.” Yuri and Yura said it at the same time, but in wildly different tones. Yuri sounded soft and sincere. Yura made it a harsh dismissal laced with threats of violence.

Victor just looked between the two of them for a long moment and then returned to eating silently.

Dinner lasted approximately twelve eternities.

##

“Right, well that sucked,” Yura spat as soon as they returned to their room. “Tomorrow better go fucking better.”

Yuri sprawled spread eagle on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. His eyes itched from the contacts, but he lacked the energy to do anything about it right that moment. “Tomorrow?”

“Chris Giacometti is having a party for the skaters to celebrate being done with assessments. It’s going to be a fucking nightmare, but if I don’t go I’m never going to hear the end of it from the rest of the assholes I have to practice with.”

“You have fun with that.” Yuri stretched, slowly starting the process of willing himself to stand and go take a shower.

Yura tossed a stuffed tiger at him. “You’re coming, too.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Yuri sat, hugging the tiger. “Were you not at dinner tonight? Where I was so unbelievably bad at being your boyfriend it literally left people speechless?”

Yura snorted. “That’s what you thought was going on?”

Shrugging, Yuri threw the tiger back at his roommate. “Things were awkward. I figured either no one thought we made a good couple and didn’t want to say anything or maybe they just didn’t like me much?”  
  
The first laugh sounded like a cough. And then Yura fell out of his chair and collapsed into wheezing gasps on the floor. When he finally managed to pull himself together he shook his head, and shoved Yuri—now standing and gathering his shower stuff—in the chest. “You fucking _idiot_. Things were awkward because Victor has the hots for you and Lilia is convinced Yakov wants to poach you—which he fucking should—and no one wanted to be the one to set the whole melodramatic clusterfuck up in flames.”

Yuri blinked. “You, um, could have warned me?”

At that Yura looked away, eyes hidden in his hair. “I didn’t know. Vitya’s been going on about some guy he saw skating, the ‘most beautiful boy in the world’ or whatever. Moaning and complaining about him having a boyfriend and how Vitya didn’t know how to talk to him, and...” Yura threw his hands up with a growl. “He pulls this shit every few months. I wasn’t really listening, so I didn’t know he meant _you_.”

“Oh. So, um, it’s not...a thing we should, I don’t know, do something about?”

“Like what?” Yura looked at him for a moment and then snarled. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! You want to screw my brother!”  
  
“I did not say that.” Yuri was very proud his voice didn’t shake, especially with how every drop of blood he had was suddenly taking up residence in his face. He may not have said it, but the thought had definitely crossed his mind. Repeatedly. And the thought that maybe Victor wanted something, too...

Yura screeched, but then his face got serious. “Look, Katsudon, Victor is an annoying fuck and I want to punch him in the face most of the time, but he’s my brother so I have to put up with him. And he’s not a bad guy mostly—though if you tell anyone I said that I will straight up fucking murder you in your sleep—but he’s also, well, kind of a dick. He gets caught up in things and then he gets bored. And while you are _also_ an annoying fuck I want to punch most of the time, you don’t deserve that kind of shit. Okay?”

“Okay.” It wasn’t, but Yuri didn’t know what else to say. ‘I’m okay being a passing fancy if it means I get to know him better’ was pathetic. And not really true. Yuri got attached. He didn’t know how not to. Which is why his life consisted of people he loved and everyone else who he tried not to interact with too much.

So no, it wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t _say_ that. Instead he went and took his shower. And if he happened to cry a little, well, there was no one there to notice.


	10. In Which Yuri is Just Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a party, JJ's an ass, and Pissy Yuri Katsuki is on full display.

Phichit and Yura spent an hour arguing over what Yuri should wear to the party. Yura wanted ‘bad ass’; Phichit wanted ‘hot’. Yuri wanted to not be standing around in his underwear freezing. He looked longingly at his hoodie and baggy jeans. They were clean, comfy, and he wanted them back. “Guys,” he kicked the pile hopefully with his toe, “what was wrong with what I was wearing?”

Both of the other boys went silent to stare at Yuri. Finally, Phichit tilted his head and offered a hesitant smile. “You’re kidding, right?” He looked over at Yura. “He’s kidding, right?”  
  
“Have you even fucking met him?” Yura snatched up the clothes on the floor and tossed them onto Yuri’s loft bed. Well out of reach. “He’s fucking hopeless.”

“I mean, I knew he was bad, but even he can’t be that--”  
  
“Standing right here,” Yuri said with a sigh. “Also, freezing my ass off, so if you could at least agree on a pair of pants that would be just fucking great. Thanks.”

And now they’d stopped to stare at him again. Phichit reached for his camera while Yura got a predatory gleam in his eyes. Oh, not good. Not good at all.  
  
“Peach,” Yuri said, voice even, “if you take a picture of me right now I am taking your phone and tossing it in the nearest sink or toilet I can find.”

Yura stepped into Yuri’s space, up on tip-toes and sniffing him. “Are you fucking drunk, Katsudon?”

“No.” Yuri gently shoved his roommate away. “I am tired, irritated, and cold. Pants. Now.”

Phichit, who had clutched his phone to his chest and not stopped, looked at Yura with wide eyes. “Is he always this sassy when cranky?”

“No, but I’m not fucking complaining. Especially if he keeps it up at the party.”

“Oh, no complaints here either. It’s kind of--”  
  
“Still standing right the fuck here. Without pants.” Yuri crossed his arms and glowered at his friends. “Black jeans. They’re tucked in the back of my third drawer. Give me.”

Yura puffed his chest out, looking like he wanted to fight, but Phichit just laughed and fetched the pants. “Hey, Yuri,” he said as he handed them over, “how long is this absolutely amazing personality switch going to last?”

The jeans were a little looser than Yuri remembered, but they’d been half a size too small then, only the Lycra in the blend making them wearable. Now, they actually fit. Barely. Cool, he might even be able to actually dance in these. “I don’t know,” he rolled his eyes, “for about as long as I remain slightly sleep deprived and more than a little annoyed?”

“Oh!” Phichit looked delighted. “JJ’s going to be there, so that should be pretty much all night.”

Yura snickered and tossed Yuri a black tank top. “You know, Katsudon, you might actually make this shitty night less of a fucking nightmare.”

##

Chris apparently rented a place for the party, and so they ended up off-campus and at a house about twenty minutes away by foot. They could hear music well before they saw the place. Yuri wrapped an arm around Yura’s waist as they approached. Sure, it helped sell their relationship, but mostly they hadn’t let him wear a jacket so he’d decided to leech Yura’s body heat. Served him right, and besides _he_ got to put on a coat.

They’d barely made it through the door, Phichit flitting off to find a good vantage point for pictures (or invaluable blackmail material as he’d cackled as he left), when JJ descended upon Yuri and Yura. “Little kitten,” he called, clearly already a few drinks into the evening. “I didn’t think you'd bother--” His voice cut off suddenly as his gaze shifted to Yuri. JJ grinned and stepped further into Yuri’s personal space. “Well, hello there.”

Yuri quirked one eyebrow, face unimpressed as he looked JJ over and then tossed his head dismissively. Only the fact that Yura made him practice this exact thing before they left kept him from turning red and trying to flee. Well, that and the fact JJ really did piss Yuri right the hell off and he was in a _mood_ tonight. Which was probably why he went that one step further and let out a dismissive snort as he tightened his arm around Yura’s waist. “Come on, tiger. You promised to introduce me to all the interesting people, and we’re not going to find them standing,” he glanced over at JJ again with a sneer, “here.”

Once they got further into the room, Yura raised an eyebrow. “Thought I was the asshole in this relationship?”

Yuri blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Too much?”

“No, it was fucking awesome, but I’m starting to understand your reputation.”

Yuri took Yura’s arm and led him to one of several tables laden with drinks. “I have a reputation?”

Pouring a shot of vodka for them both, Yura nodded. “Cold, unattainable, arrogant. Apparently, you make people cry.” He tossed back his drink. “I thought it was just jealousy, but...”  
  
Yuri drank his own shot with wide eyes. “Arrogant? I mean, I can be a little tough in the remedial classes, and I may have told Natalie she’d be better off spending more time on her posture than her cellphone if she ever wanted to catch up to everyone else, but--”  
  
“You said that?” Yura shook his head as he grabbed red cups of shitty beer. “Damn, Katsudon, why the fuck don’t I see this side of you more often?”

Yuri sighed. “Because I actually like you? And I mean, I try not to be a jerk most of the time?”

“Well,” Yura slammed the rest of his drink back, “good luck on that. In the meantime,” he grabbed Yuri’s hand and pulled, “let’s dance.”

##

JJ kept trying to corner Yura alone and it pissed Yuri right the hell off. He’d turn around to go get a drink and JJ’d be heading for his roommate. Pose for a picture with Phichit, here comes JJ. Get into a conversation with Chris, who despite being handsy happened to be an interesting guy, nope, gotta go because JJ wants to annoy Yura.

It all finally exploded when Yuri left to use the bathroom only to find that JJ and two of his friends had trapped Yura in a corner. Yuri felt his blood boil, and it must have shown on his face because the crowd scrambled to get the hell out of his way as he stalked over to where his friend needed him.

“I’m just saying,” JJ practically purred, “you don’t seem like a real couple. It’s okay,” he was leaning into Yura’s space, hands on his shoulders, “you can tell us the truth.”

“Get your fucking hands off me, you shithead, useless fucking douche canoe.” Yura jerk his shoulders, but Yuri could see JJ held on tight enough to leave bruises.

“The truth,” Yuri said as he slipped past JJ’s goons to grab JJ’s wrist and twist—hard--”is that this little obsession you have with my boyfriend is getting fucking old.” He yanked the arm he now controlled, forcing JJ to release Yuri and look at him. “Taunting and hair pulling as a sign of affection stops being cute in grade school. Leave him the fuck alone.”

Yura moved to stand behind Yuri, glowering at the other two guys in case they decided to get involved. Yuri appreciated the back-up. It left him free to give JJ his full attention.

“No one asked you, Katsuki,” JJ spat, trying, and failing, to reclaim his wrist.

“Same could be said of you, Leroy, and yet here we are.” Yuri was shorter than JJ, but the way he held the other boy's arm twisted put them eye-to-eye.

“Funny,” JJ snarled, “how you always show up to protect him like some kind of big brother, but no one ever sees you acting like an actual couple. Why do you think that is, huh?”

Yuri snorted. “Jealousy’s a bad look on you, JJ. He’s not interested. Move on.”

JJ jerked forward, breath hot and sour with alcohol against Yuri’s face, “And you? Are you interested?”

Another cold, mirthless laugh. “Not in you. Why would I be when I already have Yura?” With this Yuri released his hold on JJ as he pushed him away.  
  
Twisting gracefully, he used the momentum of the shove to turn and wrap an arm around Yura’s shoulders. He meant to just walk away, but apparently his roommate had other ideas. He shifted beneath Yuri’s arm, wrapped an arm around his neck, and kissed him. Hard.

Yuri froze, but then his brain caught up. Yura did this because JJ was trying to undermine their relationship by calling it fake. Which it was. But, JJ didn’t get to know that. Still, would have been nice of Yura to run this plan by him first.

He felt an impatient growl against his lips. With a small smile he wrapped his arms around Yura’s waist and kissed him back. It was less weird than he expected. Yura kissed with the same fire and angry determination as he did everything else. It felt almost familiar. Easy.

When they finally parted, Yuri didn’t even blush. Until he looked up and saw Victor staring at them with a pole-axed expression.

Well, fuck.


	11. Interlude: Victor (Or How to Make it All So Much Worse)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor wants to get over Yuri. He decides to go about it in possibly the worst way ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Victor's POV. There may or may not be more of these interludes as time goes on.

Victor slipped through the crowd and outside into the backyard. Cool air hit his face and he slumped down into a wicker chair. A porch wrapped around the whole house, providing cover from the light rain that started earlier. Still, the weather kept most of the party inside, and that suited Victor just fine. He needed a little space right now.

It shouldn’t bother him; he barely knew Yuri Katsuki. Sure, he was probably the most beautiful creature on Earth, and his skating transcended the mortal realms to become pure music and emotion, and yeah, he was delightfully shy and _adorable_ , but they’d shared two brief conversations and one extremely awkward dinner. With Victor’s family. Which included Yura, the younger brother Victor adored. Who also happened to be Katsuki’s boyfriend.

And Victor needed to get over this little crush of his now. Because a near perfect stranger was not worth blowing up his already complicated relationship with Yura for, much less doing that _and_ facing Lilia’s wrath. No matter how stunning said near perfect stranger might be. Or how much he made Victor’s heart race and breath falter with every shy smile.

It’d pass. He’d had crushes before. Lots of crushes. They always faded with time, or proximity, or disappointment.

That was it! He’d just...get to know Yuri. Learn all the annoying things that made him not this perfect shining thing Victor’s traitorous heart made him out to be. He just needed a way to do that where it was clear to Yura that Victor meant no harm, wasn’t poaching.

Some of this he could do at the assessments starting Monday. The students in the skating program would be there, tasked with helping out. A lot of people from the other sports programs had signed up this year, probably because the skating program had gotten a lot of press recently. Everyone wanted their share of the limelight.

But, that wouldn’t let Victor really learn about Katsuki. It was too cold, too professional. He needed to meet him on some kind of personal front. But not too personal. And probably with Yura there to be safest. Like a…

Victor’s face lit up. A double date! It was perfect. Casual enough to see the real Katsuki, but with enough distance to avoid problems. And, hey, maybe he’d click with his date and solve all his problems.

Now, he just needed to find the perfect partner in crime. Feeling lighter than usual, and probably a little drunker than he should be, Victor wandered back into the party and set his sights for the right guy.

##

Three more drinks in, and an hour of dodging his brother because Victor was too everything for that conversation right now, and he’d narrowed his options down to: forget the whole plan and just get blind drunk, sob on Chris’s shoulder because he really, really wanted a shot at the most beautiful boy to have ever been born and why, just stare and melt into a puddle of goo because holy fucking hell Yuri Katsuki was _dancing_ and how was he expected to breathe (and how was Yura not killing everyone staring at his boyfriend; Victor would be killing people—or at least down there dancing _with him),_ or the kind of cute freshman with the sparkly red camera and blinding smile.

Well, Chris stood in the radius of “Too close to Katsuki, if I go down there I will not be able to not shove my tongue down his throat and then be murdered by my own brother,” and Victor didn’t have a drink handy, so that made that choice for him.

Swaying, he pried his eyes away from temptation incarnate and made his way to where the dark-haired guy was perched on a chair taking photos. “Hey,” Victor managed while being very careful not to tumble into the chair and cause an accident. “Hi, I’m Victor.”  
  


“I know. Everyone knows who you are.” He hopped down and offered a hand. “Phichit Chulanont. Nice to meet you. Can I get a selfie?”

“Sure.” Victor wrapped an arm around Phichit’s shoulders and beamed as several shots were taken.

“Thanks!” Phichit didn’t look up as he furiously posted the pics to his various social media accounts.   
  
“No problem at all.” Victor sat on the chair, and looked up at Phichit with an even brighter smile and his best attempt at Makka eyes. “Hey, Phichit, do you want to go on a double date with me?”

Phichit looked up and very slowly slipped his camera into his pocket. “Like, you have someone you want to set me up with or go with you as your date?”

“Oh, you’d definitely be my date! Next weekend, maybe?”

Phichit blinked for a minute and then seemed to shake himself. “You know what, why not? It’s just one date. What could possibly go wrong?”


	12. Thin Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skating assessments bring new revelations and challenges.

Yura walked Yuri to the rink on Monday. The skating assessment would begin at eight, but Yakov, much like Lilia expected people to be warmed up and ready at that time. Yuri didn’t mind. He liked being in the rink first thing, the cold waking him up in a way coffee couldn’t. Besides, being early gave him time to brace himself for being around Victor.

Except, of course, the silver-haired assistant was already on the ice when Yuri and Yura arrived. He wasn’t alone. Several of the skaters in the skating program were either already practicing or on benches getting their skates on. A few, like JJ, stood around sipping coffee and chatting with other skaters.

Because Yuri was cursed, JJ noticed them as Yuri slipped on his skates and he wandered over to be JJ all over them. “Katsuki,” he boomed, far to loud, “this is closed ice. No spectators.”

Yuri ignored him and focused on lacing his skates. He hadn’t had enough coffee yet to be human, much less to deal with JJ. So, he left it to Yura.

Who did not let him down. “Mind your own business, asshole.” Okay, so probably that could have been more...explosive, but Yuri let it slide. Yura didn’t like coffee, and this was his first insult of the day. 

JJ did not choose to mind his own business. Fortunately for Yuri, neither did Christophe who skated over and leaned against the wall. Somehow he managed to twist just right that he had one hip canted and his ass on perfect display from at least three angles. Yuri found it simultaneously impressive and not a little disturbing.

“The two Yuris!” Chris called, blowing kisses in their direction. Then he looked over Yuri and pouted. “No tights? No leggings? Yuri, you wound me.”

He snorted. “Yes,” he drawled, “how dare I not freeze to death for your entertainment. Good morning, Chris.”

JJ frowned. “Giacometti, tell Katsuki he has to go. Plisetsky shouldn’t get special treatment just because of his family.”

Chris tilted his head and looked at JJ like he was some adorable creature being unaccountably stupid. Yuri wanted to learn how to make that look. “But, mon ami,” Chris drawled slowly, “if I send him away who will I work with for the day?”

Yuri perked up. “You’re overseeing my assessment?”

“You skate?” JJ sputtered at the same time.

Chris laughed. “He’s the reigning Japanese Junior National champion, or so a little bird has told me.” He winked at Yuri, “And yes, at least for today.”

“Bullshit!” JJ hovered over Yuri, glowering down at him. “Did you really think you’d get away with that kind of lie? You know you’re going to have to go on the ice and everyone’s going to see how pathe--”

“Come on, Yura.” Yuri stood up, skates on, and took his friend by the arm. “Let’s get warmed up and I’ll show you your routine before the session starts.”

They walked away to the mingled sounds off JJ ranting and Chris laughing.

##

Victor barely even looked at Yuri all morning and he didn’t know whether to be relieved of devastated. Not that his feelings mattered. Chris was a sadist that could have given Madame Baranovskaya a run for her money. Once he realized Yuri could do all the fundamentals they’d been scheduled to test, he started branching out, testing the limits of what Yuri already knew.

He was horrified by the sloppiness of the quad toe loop, declaring Yuri far too sexy to be that careless. And so they spent two hours just adjusting Yuri’s posture, positioning, and landings. It required a lot of touching. So. Much. Touching. 

Yuri was almost positive aligning his spine properly did not actually require Chris’s hands on his ass that often. But, he couldn’t deny his jump improved significantly, so he let it slide.

By the time they broke for lunch though he was bruised, starving, and exhausted. Maybe that’s how he didn’t notice he somehow agreed to have lunch with Chris, Yura, Phichit...and Victor. Who had his arm around Phichit shoulders? Like they knew each other. Did they know each other?

Yuri looked over at Yura as they walked behind the others, gesturing at Victor and Phichit with a raised eyebrow. Yura just shook his head, face scrunched and confused. “Hey, asshat,” Yura finally called out, stepping up and between Victor and Chris, “do you actually fucking know Peach or something?”

Phichit, who looked somewhere between delighted and confounded, beamed at Yura. “We met at Chris’s party this weekend.”

Victor nodded then paused. “Peach?”

Phichit nodded. “It’s what my friends call me. Yuri started it.”

“I did not!” Yuri had intended to watch in silence, but this blatant lie could not be allowed to stand. “You told me to call you that!”

“And you did!” Phichit slipped out from under Victor’s increasingly lax arm (showing more willpower or less sense than Yuri probably possessed—he’d probably never move again if Victor touched him) and fell back to hug Yuri. “Which is why you are the bestest best friend I could’ve asked for.”

Victor stopped moving so suddenly Yuri almost walked into him. “Katsuki is your best friend?” He stared at them as if watching an oncoming car accident. 

If Phichit noticed he did what he usually did when faced with awkwardness. He ignored it. “Yep.” He beamed and took out his camera to snap a selfie with Yuri. “Bff’s forever.”

Victor looked sick; Yura looked disgusted; Chris almost fell down laughing. Yuri had no idea what was going on. He was starting to get used to the feeling.


	13. Enter Peach to the Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get heated at lunch, so Phichit and Yuri decide to go off on their own.

“So,” Yura said as soon as they’d been seated, “what the fuck, Victor? Are you and Phichit a thing now? Finally run out of people your own age to screw around with?”

Yuri dropped his menu and just plopped his face in his hands with a soft, “Yura.”

The boy in question didn’t respond, but Chris, who had pulled up a seat at the end of their booth, reached over and rubbed his shoulder. And then back. Yuri scooted against the booth to block the hand from going any lower.

“Kitten, that’s rather mean,” Victor pouted. “Besides, I didn’t even know you knew him.”  
  
“He’s a skater. Of course, I fucking know him. Seriously, first you’re drooling all over my fucking boyfriend--”  
  
Victor gasped and clutched at his chest. “Yura! I would never do that to you. You know--”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. But you _want_ to, and now you’re hooking up with the only other person I can stand--”  
  
Phichit looked up over his menu. “We’re not. Hooking up that is. He just asked me to go on a double date to get over some guy.” His eyes went wide and he looked around table. “Oh! Wait! You were talking about Yuri?”

“No!” Victor cried out at the same time Yura said, “Yes.”

Yuri tried to slink down far enough to disappear under the table. He didn’t make it, but he did end up with Chris’s hand in his hair. Not really an improvement.

“We could just go, mon ami,” Chris whispered with a sly smile. “We’re not going to get anything to eat at this point.”

Without even looking from Victor Yura grabbed the sugar canister and threw it at Chris. “Hands off.”

  
Which, of course, prompted Victor and Phichit to look over. “Chris!” Victor sounded both scandalized and personally attacked, voice going up three octaves. Which got Yura yelling at both of them.

  
Yuri just wanted food, maybe some caffeine, and suddenly he was just done with all of it. He caught Phichit’s eye and jerked his head towards the door. Once he got a nod, he pulled himself up and over the back of the booth, glad the one behind him happened to be empty. Peach did the same and they met at the door.

The rest of their group was still yelling at each other when they walked out.

##

Phichit wrapped a comforting arm around Yuri’s shoulder. “Blinis?”

“Piroshki, I think. If that’s okay with you.” Yuri shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. He wasn’t even sure what, exactly, had him so unsettled. There’d been plenty to choose from back there.

“Totally fine.” He paused, watching Yuri for a long moment. “You want to talk about it?”

Yuri meant to say no, but what popped out instead was, “I hate that Yuri and Victor are fighting. For all that he acts like he doesn’t care, Victor’s important to Yura and...I don’t want to be something that causes problems between them.”

“You can’t control how other people feel, Yuri.” Phichit guided them into the cafe next to the restaurant they’d left. It was warm and rich with the scents of roasting meat.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this. Do you...I mean are you interested in Victor?” He sat down and looked at the chalkboard menu hanging over the counter. Mostly not to have to look at Peach, but also because he really was starving.

“Not really,” Peach reached out and tapped Yuri’s forearm, “but I think the more important question is, are you?”

“I’m with Yura.” He switched his gaze from the menu to his clasped hands, completely unable to meet his best friend’s eyes. This all seemed so harmless when it started. When did everything get so complicated?

“Yes, and you two are adorable together. Very sweet. Also, not even remotely in love with each other. But, also, not what I asked.”

Yuri’s head jerked up. “What do you mean? I do love Yura.”  
  
Phichit nodded. “He loves you, too. But you’re not _in_ love. Not...” He frowned. “This really isn’t my place to say, Yuri, and I’m not exactly unbiased--”  
  
“Because you have a crush on Yura?” Again, Yuri hadn’t meant to say that, but his traitorous tongue kept just doing whatever it wanted. He really needed food if only because eating would shut him the hell up.

Going very still, Phichit’s cheeks flushed. “You, uh, noticed that, huh?”

Yuri shrugged. “Best friend, remember. I know you.”

“And I know you.” Phichit sighed. “You and Yura, you...” he considered for a minute, “You know I’ve only seen you kiss once? And then you barely looked at each other the entire next day.”  
  
Yuri blushed. “I don’t really like public displays of affection?”

“Except you do. At least around me. You two cuddle, you touch each other, but it’s never...romantic? Caring, but...”

“But?”

“There’s no passion, Yuri. No fire.” Phichit shook his head. “I figured it was just how you were. Not all couples have to be the same. Except, I see the way you look at Victor. You try not to, but you’re drawn to him, and your eyes...You don’t look at Yura like that, Yuri.” Phichit hurried on, words tumbling over each other and he held Yuri’s hands. “And I’m not accusing you of anything. He doesn’t look at you that way either and--”

“It’s okay, Peach. I know.”

“You do?” He looked confused and hopeful and a little lost.

Yuri couldn’t keep lying to him. “We’re friends.”

Phichit nodded. “Of course we are! Best friends!”

Smiling a tad sadly, Yuri shook his head. “I meant me and Yura. We’re not really dating. We’re just friends. We always have been.”

Silence reigned for long enough to make Yuri squirm before Phichit’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. He was positively radiant. “This is amazing!”

Yuri blinked. “You’re not mad? About us lying to you?”

The Thai boy bounced in his chair waving the words away. “I mean, a little, but that’s not what matters right now.”

“Okay.” Yuri drew the word out on a long breath. “What does matter then?”  
  
  
Phichit threw his arms in the air in a victory sign. “I still have a chance! And you, my dear, sweet, soft, precious, little pudding, you can still get your man!”

Somehow Yuri suspected he’d just made things a whole lot worse.


	14. Interlude: Yura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yura and Victor talk and Yura has thoughts on his relationship with Yuri.

Victor stared at Phichit and Yuri’s backs. “They...left?”

Chris shrugged. “Not sure you can blame them.” He looked between Victor and his brother. “Think I’m going to go be anywhere but here now.”  
  
“Stay the fuck away from my friends!” Yura screamed as Chris took off, waving a hand in acknowledgment as he went outside and turned the opposite way from where the other two had gone.

Long fingers tapped on the table, drawing Yura’s attention back to his brother, his very guilty looking brother. Victor kept his gaze on the table, voice soft and vulnerable in a way Yura had never heard. “Yuri,” he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry. You have to know I’d never try to hurt you, to...intrude on your relationships.”

The worst part was he _did_ know that, knew Victor had had no clue about him and Katsudon when the crush started, knew he’d done his best to stay away once he did. What he didn’t understand was how the hell they had gotten here.  
  
He let out a low growl, threw his hands up. “Why, Vitya? I mean, fuck. Out of everyone in the entire fucking school you decide to move on with his best friend? Are you _trying_ to be an asshole? Peach isn’t even your type.”

Victor smiled sadly. “I had no idea that you all even knew each other. I was at Chris’s party. More than a little drunk. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Drunk? What kind of fucking Russian are you?”

“Kitten, is that really the part of this you want to focus on?” Vitya finally looked at him. He seemed...tired.

“I just—Yuri’s not like your normal pretty trophy boyfriends that want to let you dress them up and take them out, Victor. And neither is Phichit. What the fuck is even going on with you lately?”

“Phichit was convenient. I asked him to go on a double date with me. With us, actually, though I hadn’t mentioned who the other couple would be. We’d both been drinking and lamenting our impossible loves, and--” he stopped, eyes going wide. “I mean--”  
  
Yura winced and held up a hand. “No. Stop.”  
  
Victor shut his mouth with a snap, eyes locked on Yura’s face.

“Look, I have no fucking clue why you suddenly decided to not have shit taste in men, but like I said, Yuri’s way more than some pretty face for you to show off. He’s smart and nice and stubborn as hell. He also has shit for self-esteem and anxiety bad enough to need medication, and the last thing he needs is you and your short attention span fucking with his head. You’re a fucking idiot, but I love you anyway, but Yuri, he’s too good for you, Vitya.”

“And he has you.” But it sounded like a question, Victor’s eyes searching Yura’s face.

“Yeah,” Yura nodded firmly. “He has me.” He paused, taking in the bags under Victor’s eyes, the pinched line of his mouth. “But so do you.”

They didn’t talk much for the rest of lunch, but that was okay. They were okay. They’d be just fine.

##

Yuri and Yura didn’t have much of a chance to talk at afternoon practice, but they walked back to their room together. Neither said much, the air between them unusually tense. Finally, once they were behind closed doors, Yuri broke the silence.

“I’m sorry, Yura. I never meant to cause trouble between you and Victor.”

Yura rolled his eyes. Of course stupid Katsudon blamed himself. He’d probably find some way to put fault on himself of a natural disaster given half a chance. It was irritating as fuck. “Not your fault,” he snapped.

“But--”

“No. Unless you have some fucking mind control bullshit you never told me about—and if so why the fuck haven’t you used it on JJ?--you don’t decide how other people feel. Besides,” Yura threw himself on the floor and started stretching, “Vitya and I talked. We’re fine.”  
  
  
“Really?” Yuri settled across from Yura and started helping him stretch. Without so much as being asked.

They did this, Yura realized, accommodated each other, slotted into each others’ lives. Almost like a real couple would, but...But Yura didn’t want to be a couple. Not really. Not with Yuri and maybe not with anyone. He enjoyed this...companionship, closeness. But he’d never really wanted for the kind of intimacy his rink mates whispered about. Didn’t dream of kisses and caresses.

Even his one kiss with Yuri had been...fine. Comfortable because it was Yuri, but not exciting or something he longed to repeat. He just...wasn’t interested in that kind of thing. But this, stretching, teasing. He didn’t want to lose that. And he feared he would once Yuri found a real boyfriend.

Shaking his head, Yuri glared up at Yuri. “No, I’m lying to make you feel better. Because I’m some kind of romance novel sap. Yes, you asshole, really.”

Yuri let out a relieved breath, tension draining from his shoulders, but his eyes still dark with anxiety. “Good. I’m glad. So...um...I…may have told Peach the truth about us.”

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Yura jumped to his feet and started pacing. “We’re going to be a fucking hashtag by dinner. Something stupid like fake relationship goals. And JJ’s already giving us shit about--”  
  
  
Yuri caught his arm and pulled him into a hug. “Peach isn’t going to tell anyone, Yura. He promised. It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”  
  
  
Yura snarled and muttered, but they both knew it was just for show. He let Yuri hold him, and for now he let himself believe it all really would be okay. Because it had to be. Yura needed it to be.


	15. Movie Night and Other Disasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Chris are friends with the rest of the boys. This is causing issues for Yuri.

The first week of skating assessments went by in a blur for Yuri. He had little trouble learning the routine they’d be performing the second week, so Chris had decided to use their time teaching Yuri a quad Salchow. Yura, declaring Yuri’s efforts pathetic, stayed after until it was perfected. Which meant long days.

The fact that Yuri also kept up in the dance studio three evenings a week, and he was desperately grateful classes hadn’t started yet, because at this pace he’d fail everything. But, he couldn’t deny he loved every second of it, no matter how much his feet bled and his bones ached as he crawled into bed each evening.

More complicated were his feelings on his extended social circle. Somehow, Chris and Victor had become a more or less permanent fixture to lunches, joining him, Yura, and Phichit every day. And on one hand, it delighted Yuri. Chris, once you got past the flirting possessed a brutal eye for detail and a sly sense of humor that made conversations on everything from skating to the fashion choices of their peers both enlightening and hilarious. Even better, Yuri got to see Yura and Victor together, to have real proof they really were okay. Yes, they teased and insulted and drove each other nuts, but ever word came laced with genuine affection (and, on Yura’s part equally genuine exasperation.)

But, it hurt, too. Being close to Victor, learning of him as a person rather than an idol. Because Victor the person was...well, he was better than Yuri ever imagined. Dramatic, yes, but adorable and sweet. Completely devoted to his poodle, Makkachin, to the point Yuri now had a folder on his phone just for the dozens of photos Victor sent him. Much smarter and more observant than he let on. Lonely in a way completely at odds with how people always surrounded him.

And Yuri had no idea how to deal with these revelations, with being this close to Victor, with being his _friend_ when every passing interaction made him long to be so much more.

He kept waiting for Victor to find a boyfriend. Yura swore he rarely went more than a month without one, that he’d probably already moved on from Yuri. It didn’t feel that way. Sure, he flirted lightly with Peach and Chris, but no one took it seriously. In fact, Peach took it as a fun way to subtly flirt with Yura, who either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Yuri wasn’t sure which. He and Yura didn’t talk about Peach’s crush. They both knew it existed, but neither wanted to address it. So, they just...didn’t.

They didn’t talk about Victor either. About how sometimes Yuri caught him watching him with a strange sadness in his eyes, about how sometimes they’d be talking and their gazes would catch on each other for a little too long. No, it definitely didn’t feel like Victor had moved on, and Yuri didn’t understand why. Certainly enough people showed up to throw themselves at him. Much more attractive, interesting, accomplished people than Yuri. Much more available people, too.

Tonight they were doing their semi-regular Saturday Night Movie Marathon. Everyone brought a movie to share, they all made popcorn and ordered food none of them should eat, and saw how many films they made it through before the evening devolved into madness or everyone fell asleep. Usually this happened in Yuri and Yura’s room.

But, this time Victor and Chris were participating and Victor offered his apartment. Because apparently he had one. Within walking distance of campus. With an actual television and real furniture. And, best for Yuri at least, Makka could be there.

It felt different, tenser, moving into Victor’s space. More...just more somehow. And Yuri was terrified.

##

Yuri arrived last. Yura had gone early to help Victor set up, and Chris and Phichit had apparently picked up snacks to tide people over until pizza got ordered, getting there just a little before the 4 pm start time. Being the walking disaster he always was, Yuri was late. Ten minutes, not the end of the world, but still rude. It’d been his fault three students from his remedial classes had cornered him for advice about their technique, but he blushed and stammered apologies as he entered the apartment.

Or he tried. As soon as he made it through the door Makka took him out at the knees and sent him to the floor laughing. She promptly settled on her back in his lap, tummy up and ready for rubs he gladly gave. When he finally managed to turn his attention from the dog it was to see Victor. Looking at him. Looking at him with soft eyes and a sweet smile, and the faintest tinge of pink across his nose.

Yuri looked back, smiled despite himself. Reached out and took the hand Victor offered to help him up. Kept looking as the assistance left them standing far too close.

Stopped looking when Yura hit him in the back of the head with a pillow. “You’re late, Katsudon. You better have brought a good movie to make up for it.”

Jumping, Yuri dropped Victor’s hand—oh god, he’d still been holding his hand—and turned to Yuri with his face redder than a stop sign. “Oh...um...yeah, uh...I did. Bring a movie. _Kiki’s Delivery Service_. It has a cat.”

They always agreed on a theme for these nights, mostly so Peach couldn’t make them watch _The King and the Skater_ every single time. This time it was animated films. Victor’s idea. Everyone assumed to keep Chris from bringing porn. Not that there wasn’t animated porn, but they all hoped _Chris_ didn’t know that.

“Cool. I have _The Corpse Bride_ ,” Yura said from his position sitting sideways in a comfortable looking gray leather chair. “Peach,” he gestured to their friend sitting on the floor by Yura’s chair on a matching beanbag that could double as an ottoman, “brought something about a fucking cooking rat, and Victor’s still picking something from his ridiculous Disney collection.”

Yuri paused on his way to sit on the love seat next to Yura’s chair. Also gray, but suede and deliciously soft looking. “You like Disney movies?” He didn’t mean to sound so incredulous, but he’d expected something...else. Edgier maybe. Foreign and sophisticated.

Victor blushed. “You don’t? I can...I have some other options.”  
  
  
“No!” Yuri waved his hands as he sat, Makka immediately back in his lap. “I like them. Most of them. I just...for someone that likes surprises I thought they might be..too predictable for you?”

The older man shrugged, pushed up the sleeves on his white and black striped sweater. He had really nice forearms, Yuri noted. “They can be, but that’s part of the charm. Sometimes you just want to know everyone lives happily ever after.”  
  


“You’re a romantic.” Yuri said it with a soft, surprised smile. Victor did that a lot, surprised him in all the best ways.  
  
  
“Uh,” Victor coughed, turning suddenly, “I’ll just go and pick something.”

  
Yura punched Yuri in the arm. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Staring. Flirting. Whatever the fuck _that_ was there.” Yura glowered, but he looked more concerned than angry.

“We were just talking, tiger.”

The snort that came from Yura held so much derision it could have melted concrete were it solid. “Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, Katsudon.”

Before he could reply, Chris appeared, apparently from the bathroom and threw himself across the arm of the couch, right between Yuri and Yura, an arm around each. “And we are all here! Tell me, my friends, have you ever seen _Waking Life_? It’s an exceptional film. Let’s begin, shall we?”

Yuri and Yura exchanged a glance over Chris’s head, but anything they might have said was stalled when Victor returned with _Mulan_ and took his seat. On the couch next to Yuri.

It was going to be a long night.


	16. It Was, In Fact, a Long Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movies are watched. Things happen.

Three movies in and no one wanted to let Chris choose a film ever again. Not that his selection was bad exactly, but it certainly set a different tone for the night than _Ratatouille._ Filled with deep philosophical discussions, Yuri enjoyed it, but he had to work harder to follow everything more than he expected to for ‘lighthearted animated films night’. He’d also started to get a headache from Yura’s increasingly annoyed bitching.  
  
  
“You know this is supposed to be fun, right, asshat?” He directed the comment and a pillow at Chris who had sprawled out on the floor. “I feel like I’m in a fucking class.”  
  


Chris just laughed, not even paying attention to the movie as he and Phichit compared scores. They’d found an app game they both played and been trying to out-do each other at it for the last twenty minutes.

Yuri could have called foul and made them watch the movie, but he’d noticed the interaction had led to less of Peach sneaking glances at Yura and more blushing at Chris. Who, from the grins and nudges, was a far more likely prospect than Yuri’s pretend boyfriend. Something tight and unpleasant started to unknot in Yuri’s chest, and when he glimpsed Yura casting a sly grin at the other two, it released completely. He caught Yura’s eyes and gestured, and Yura rolled his eyes in response, but he smiled.

Good. Very good.

Caught up in the little drama on the floor, Yuri reached for the popcorn bowl that sat on the couch between him and Victor without paying much attention. Only to end up with his hand brushing against Victor’s as he did the same.

Yuri’s head turned like he’d dropped into slow motion, everything heightened. Victor’s skin was soft but salt clung to his fingers, the butter of the popcorn giving a slick slide to how their hands moved across each other. Yuri’s own fingers felt rough and hot.

The only light in the room came from the television screen, masking Yuri’s blush, or so he hoped, but it added an alien, ethereal loveliness to Victor’s eyes, the flicker of the movie making them dance and glow. Yuri saw that Victor’s lips had parted just a little, as if caught mid gasp.

Yuri couldn’t look away, couldn’t _breathe_.

And then Victor’s hand was gone, his face tilting down. His lips parted, formed a word. Probably ‘sorry,” but Yuri had no idea because he couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his own heart in his ears. Victor’s attention returned to the movie.

It took far too long for Yuri’s to do the same, and when it did, Yuri found his throat tight and the odd sensation of wanting to cry stuck with him for the rest of the movie.

##

They’d taken a break to stretch, let Makka out. It also served as a good tap-out point for some. Like Yura, who stood, stretched his arms up with enough force to pop his spine, and glowered down at a now snoring Chris. “Yo, dumb-ass, did you seriously sleep through your own fucking movie?” He accompanied the words with a not at all gentle kick to the ribs that had Chris awake and on his feet in seconds.

“I wasn’t sleeping!” Chris tilted his chin haughtily. “I was just resting my eyes. Strain from too many movies in a row.”  
  
“Yeah, well your resting sounding like a fucking buzz-saw and you left a puddle of drool on the carpet. Go the fuck to bed. In Victor’s room. Because I am sleeping in the guest room and I do not want to fucking listen to you all night.”

Surprised, Yuri looked over at Victor before he remembered to be embarrassed about earlier. “You have a guest room. I thought this was a temporary place?”

“It is, but I needed the extra closet space.” Victor grinned as Yura made a disgusted noise on his way to the room under discussion. “And it comes in handy for things like this.” He gestured to the room. “I have a lot of international friends from skating and it’s nice to be able to accommodate them.”  
  
Phichit grinned. “So, wait, we get a real bed? No sleeping bags on dorm floors?”

Yuri watched, traitorous heart beating faster, as Victor also stood and stretched. His sweater rode up slightly, a thin sliver of abdomen showing. It seemed to glow in the blue light from the screen. Yuri swallowed hard and grabbed a pillow to bury his face in.

“There’s a double bed and an air mattress set up for tonight in the guest room, and there is another air mattress in my room. But, if anyone wants it, the couch is also comfortable. I’m getting a drink. Anyone else want anything?”

Both Yuri and Peach requested sodas, and Victor sauntered out, his sweater returning to it’s proper place as he turned. Yuri did not let out a longing sigh. Barely.

A second later Yuri saw Phichit toss him a look. Phichit had a lot of different looks, but they all meant trouble. Which Phichit confirmed when he gave Yuri puppy dog eyes and said, “Yuri, I’m hungry, but the pizza is all the way in there, and Victor has to get the drinks, and I’m _comfy.”  
  
_“So,” Yuri said with a sigh, “you want me to go and fetch you food is what you’re saying?”  
  


“Please?” Phichit batted his eyelashes dramatically. “Because you are the bestest best friend ever?”

“Fine.” Yuri dragged himself up, joints cracking. He’d been locked in one position for far too long anyway. “But you get to set up the next movie.”  
  
  
“Deal.”

The universe hated Yuri. But, he kept forgetting this. So, of course, of course, he managed to be rubbing his eyes, pretty much blind as he walked into the kitchen. And straight into Victor’s chest. Soda cans got dropped, but Yuri managed to catch Victor by the arms, keeping the man upright.

Startled, he overcompensated, pulled with too much force. And ended up tugging Victor into his arms. Yuri had no idea how his hands went from on Victor’s upper arms to wrapped around his shoulders, even less of a clue when and how Victor’s arms went around his waist.

He just knew that right here and now they were effectively...embracing...one another. And Victor’s breath was hot against Yuri’s ear. Oh god. “Sorry,” he managed, voice rough and a little choked.

Just before he pulled from Yuri’s arms to retrieve the sodas, Yuri thought he heard Victor say, “I’m not.”

It must have been his imagination, his wishful thinking. His traitorous heart.


	17. Frozen Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri goes skating because he can't sleep. He's not the only one.

Yuri hated mornings. All mornings. Every morning. But, Monday mornings, those he hated the worst. Yet here he was, up and dressed and on the way to the rink a full hour and a half before he needed to be. Instead of sleeping.

He wanted to be sleeping. He kept dreaming of Victor, of things that could have happened and most certainly did not. Better to be up and moving than risk making noise in his sleep, waking Yura, and having to explain that particular issue.

Way better.

At least until he walks into the chilled air and dim lights of the rink to find Victor already there, gliding like a ghost across the surface. No music but the sounds his skates make as they draw incantations on the glossy surface of the ice. God, he’s beautiful.

Yuri watched, entranced, as he removed his jacket and laced up his skates on autopilot. Victor didn’t seem to be doing a routine, at least not one Yuri had seen, but he could feel a story all the same. Or at least the emotions of one: longing, guilt, joy, hope.

Seeing it hurt Yuri because he knew this story, too.

He should go. Return to his room, jog off his extra energy, head to the dance studio. Something other than step on the ice. Except, he only got to use this rink for another week unless Yakov approved his skating minor. And even then it would be...different. Louder.

Taking a deep breath, Yuri moved up to the wall and called out quietly, “Is it okay if I join you?”

Victor stopped moving and went so still he might have been frozen. Then he turned slowly and his eyes swept over Yuri, a soft smile tugging at his lips but melancholy in his eyes. “Yuri. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

Yuri shrugged. “I have trouble with that sometimes. You?”

Victor shook his head. “I just like skating by myself, and these are the hours it’s possible.”

“Oh.” Yuri stepped back, an odd pressure behind his eyes. “I..um...I didn’t mean to intrude. I can just go.” He stumbled back, legs hitting the bench, and sat hard.

A strange, strangled sound came from Victor, and then the man was at the wall in front of Yuri. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out, Yuri. You have as much right to be here as I do.” He chuckled. “Which technically speaking is none. Pretty sure _neither_ of us is strictly speaking allowed here.”

Yuri looked up, nibbling on his lip. “Are we going to get in trouble? The dance studios are always open so I just assumed it’d be the same for the rink.”

“I don’t actually know.” Victor leaned against the wall, fingers tapping a rhythm on his lips. “I mean, you might have more of a right to be here actually, since you’re a student? And I’m...well, nothing according to the school. I don’t attend classes, and they certainly aren’t paying me. More like they put up with me being here as part of Yakov’s contract?” He quirked his head and then tossed Yuri a wink. “Well, whatever. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“I won’t.” The words were shaky as Yuri stared at his hands. He needed to take his skates off, but found he lacked the energy to do so. He’d really wanted to skate.

“Good.” A long silence stretched between them before Victor spoke again, tone soft and almost hopeful. “Well, are you going to come out and skate with me, Yuri?”

Looking up, Yuri met Victor’s eyes. So blue. They seemed to trap him in that moment, to strip him of the will to speak or think. So, he moved instead, stood, slid onto the ice. Victor offered a hand and Yuri, stupid, reckless Yuri, he took it.

And then they danced.

Victor’s hand is warm in Yuri’s, the other having found it’s way to his waist while Yuri’s rests on Victor’s chest. And Yuri has never done pair skating really, but this is familiar, a modified waltz, and his body moves through it with ease, the transition to pushing back from pushing up to accommodate skates almost automatic.

He’s not sure how long they spend like that, gliding and twirling, changing dance elements into spins and twizzles, switching leads naturally between them, barely speaking, words secondary to the gentle cues of their bodies. But Yuri is very, very aware when that magical silence is broken. When someone starts clapping.

Victor and he move apart, both turning to the sound. JJ. He has his camera out, and he looks smug. Already Yuri can feel his throat tightening with something. He’s just not sure if it’s annoyance of disappointment or guilt.

“Well,” JJ drawled. “That was something. Very pretty.” He put on a dramatically overdone puzzled expression as he continued. “Romantic even. Which is a little weird, right? I mean what would Plisetsky think of all this?”

“He’d think,” an irritated voice rang from behind JJ, “that his stupid boyfriend should leave a fucking note the next time he takes off in the middle of the night or at least remember his damn phone.” Yura stalked over, a tray with two coffees in it. “You got coffee because I couldn’t ask what the fuck you wanted this time. Also, sleep. Fucking try it, Katsudon.”

Yuri laughed and accepted the coffee. “I did try. I just failed. I’m--”  
  
  
“If you say ‘I’m good at that,’ I’m punching you in the fucking face.”

“--Thankful for the coffee.” Yuri swiftly corrected himself to as he looked around and saw more and more skaters coming in. “Wait, is it time for practice already?”

Yura rolled his eyes. “What fucking time did you get here that that’s a surprise?”

Yuri just looked down and blushed. “I’m not actually sure? Five-thirty?”

With an annoyed snarl, Yura shook his head and started lacing up his skates. “Don’t come crying to me when you fall asleep in your lunch later.” He looked up and glared at Victor. “And you! You’re supposed to be a fucking adult or something? Why the hell didn’t you send him back to bed?”

Victor’s cheeks went pink. “I, well, I figured he’d sleep better if he got it out of his system?”

Yura frowned and stared between the two of them for a long, tense moment. “Someone needs to,” he muttered. And then Yakov was there and they all started working. The matter dropped entirely. For the moment.


	18. Distractions and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ makes trouble--or tries--and Yuri sees a chance to pursue his dreams.

JJ posted the video of Victor and Yuri dancing to YouTube and linked it from everywhere else. Of course, Phichit found out first, but before long the whole rink had seen it and whispers followed Yuri around the ice. Thankfully, no one tried to talk to him about it directly. Probably because of the murderous looks Yura tossed anyone but Chris that got within five feet.

It didn’t stop Yuri from catching snatches of gossip. Most of it centered on how long Yuri had to live before Yura killed him, but a few thought Yuri had attempted to seduce Victor to get into the skating program. Which was ridiculous on so many levels he actually burst out laughing when he heard it. But, it got uglier from there, and Yuri finally put in his ear buds to stop having to listen.

Just as well because Chris had suddenly decided to take getting the required routine perfect extremely seriously. Not that Yuri didn’t have it more or less down, but he ran it over and over and over anyway. Probably Chris wanted him to ask why the change, certainly he dropped enough enigmatic statements to warrant questioning. But, Yuri didn’t care. He just wanted to skate.

And then lunch time came, and everyone in the rink stopped to watch as Yura took off his skates and stalked over to where Yuri waited with Phichit. From the opposite direction Chris and Victor also approached. Victor and Yura reached Yuri at the same moment, and for one second tension sang in the air as the two looked at each other.

Then Victor winked, Yura got a sneaky gleam in his eye, and each of them reached out and took one of Yuri’s hands. You could hear JJ’s wheezing stutter all the way across the rink as the five of them walked out, Victor and Yura chatting—well, Victor chatted and Yura ranted—with Yuri wide-eyed and confused dragged out between them.

Phichit almost hit a post while he walked backwards taking photos. Chris stayed behind them, likely staring at everyone’s asses.

As the stepped out the rink doors, Yuri finally managed to find his voice. “The hell, guys? Everyone is going to think--”  
  
  
“We decided to share you?” Victor winked. “I wouldn’t mind. Kitten?”

Yuri’s eyes went wide enough to actually hurt, and he felt his face heat up.  
  
  
“Fuck off, old man.” Yura squeezed Yuri’s hand. “He’s still too damn good for you.”

“Yes,” Yuri said dryly, “that’s the problem with this plan. Do I get a say in any of this, by the way?”

Yura tossed him a sharp-edged grin. “Nope. You lost that right when you decided to take up goddamn ice dancing at fuck it o’clock in the morning.”

“Okay, fair.” Yuri shrugged and squeezed Yura’s hand back before he leaned in and whispered, “Sorry. Should have left a note. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

A brisk nod was the only acknowledgment he got. Forgiveness in Yura-speak.

Meanwhile Yuri felt Victor’s eyes on them. His gaze was heavy and his hand warm in Yuri’s own. Neither made any move to let go.

##

Yakov stood in the center of the ice when they got back from lunch. He made an imposing figure out there alone, arms crossed and a deep enough scowl to leave shadows on the ice. As soon as the last skater entered, he bellowed, “Skates on and gather around.”  
  
Much scrambling later, all of the skaters from the program and the assessment had circled round. JJ tried to take a place next to Yura only to get elbowed in the side as Phichit raced into the spot instead. Yuri stood on his other side and Chris and Victor took the places behind them. Yuri slapped Chris’s hands away from both him and Yura, and they all ignored the whispers Victor standing behind Yuri inspired.

“In four weeks we are holding a Skater’s Exhibit. This will be judged by ISU officials. As they do every year, the highest scored skater of the exhibit will be seeded into the Grand Prix. The school has decided underdogs get more alumni donations, so this year not only will those of you hoping to be accepted to the skating minor program be performing the routine I prepared, but you may choose to also perform your own routine as a free skate. If you do both, your showings will be judged by three coaches that work with the program: Satsuki Muramoto, Celestino Cialdini, and Min-So Park. The highest scored skater from that will be allowed to compete in the Skater’s Exhibition. That is all. Get back to work.”

Yuri hadn’t even fully processed the announcement before Phichit wrapped him in an enthusiastic hug. “Yuri! Yuri, Yuri, Yuri! You get to go to the Grand Prix.”  
  
  
“Um,” Yuri tried to loosen Phichit’s hold though the Thai boy had apparently turned into a octopus in the last ten seconds. “That’s...I mean I’d have to get a whole routine, and be good enough to beat the other skaters in assessment, and some of them are really good--”  
  
  
“None of them are fucking National champions that can do quads.”  
  
  
“Okay, but even if I win that I can’t beat Chris or Phichit or you, Yura.”  
  
  
The blonde considered this. “I mean, you can beat Chris and Peach in your sleep--”  
  
  
“Hey!” Both of the other said at once.  
  
  
Yura ignored them. “But, yeah, I’m going to kick your ass. Fortunately, you don’t need to win to win.”  
  
  
“Huh?” Yuri stared at Yura, but both Chris and Victor were also nodding. “I don’t...what?”

Victor smiled, his soft, comforting one. “Yuri, you can make it to the Grand Prix on your own. What you need is a coach that will take you on. And this is a great chance for you to show off for a whole panel of them. And Celestino and the others, unlike  Yakov, are not limited to skaters from one country.”

Yuri punched him in the arm though with no real force. “Plus, if you best most of the skaters actually in the program then they are definitely going to let you change majors, and that comes with coaching for any international events.”  
  
“Oh.” Yuri blinked three times and waited for the panic to come. It didn’t. 

So, after taking a few circles around the rink to gather his thoughts, he stopped in front of Chris. “Let’s go over the standard routine one more time. And then I want to polish my quad Sal again before I start putting a routine together.

Chris beamed and gave him a high-five. Then they went to work.


	19. Collisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's ready to make his dreams come true. At least some of them. JJ gets in the way.

Thursday morning Yuri arrived ready to win. Granted, it took two panic attacks and half an hour with Yura and Phichit to get there, but he did, in fact get there. Determined, and if he dared admit it to himself, really proud of the routine he’d put together. Even if he still worried just a bit about his quad sal.

Chris met him on the ice to warm up with a hug. “You’ve got this, Yuri.”  
  
He nodded, taking a deep breath and smiling over at Phichit and Yuri, the former who offered a thumbs up and the latter that called out, “Don’t fuck it up, Katsudon. I need to kick your ass at the exhibition.”

Yuri nodded and started slowly circling the rink before moving into figures and then on to warming up jumps. It was as he lined up for a triple axel that he suddenly found himself face flat on the ice, searing pain in his leg.

JJ stood over him, a smug smile hidden from the rest of the audience, but clear to Yuri. “Oops. Sorry about that. Guess I wasn’t watching my spac--”  
  
  
He didn’t get to finish as Yura and Victor suddenly appeared. While Yura bent down to check on Yuri, Victor grabbed JJ by his collar. “Off the ice now!”  
  


“Last I checked, Nikiforov, you don’t actually have any authority.”  
  
  
“Yuri,” Yura whispered, “his skate sliced your leg. It’s a long cut. We need to get a medic out here. Does anything else hurt?”

Breathing deeply, Yuri assessed himself, trying hard to ignore the burning in his leg. Scrapped palms, a tightness that spoke of blooming bruises, a slight pull in his shoulder. “Nothing serious, I think.”

  
Stout legs appeared beside Yuri. “Vitya, let Leroy go. Everyone off the ice. Come back in half an hour.” Yakov’s voice filled the rink and people scurried to comply.

Except Yuri. He sat, growing increasingly numb from the ice as a medic carefully cut the leg of his pants and examined the wound. Stitches meant no chance to do his routine, an end to everything he’d worked so hard for the last two weeks. Worse, it also kept him from dancing. He’d be desperately behind in his program while healing. Would they kick him out of school?

Oh, god. What if it did muscle damage? What if he couldn’t skate or dance again at all? Buzzing energy flooded his system and left his mouth tasting like he’d sucked on a battery. His whole body shook as he awaited the verdict.

Finally the medic finished cleaning and wrapping it, directing his report to Yakov, who had stood by the whole time. So had Victor. “It’s a long cut, but not that deep. He should stay off it today, and keep up with an antibiotic cream, but unless there are complications—swelling, signs of infection, excessive pain—he should be okay to return to the ice tomorrow. He got lucky.”

“Good.” Yakov offered Yuri a hand up. “We will move your presentation until tomorrow. Vitya, take him home.”

Wrapping a gentle arm around Yuri’s waist, Victor led him off the ice, lowering him to the bench and tenderly removing Yuri’s skates. “He rammed you on purpose.” Victor whispered, but the hot anger in his voice could have melted the ice.

Yuri looked down at Victor and patted the top of his head. “It’s okay. I can still skate.”

“It’s _not_ okay.” Victor’s head whipped up and his eyes locked on Yuri’s. “He meant to hurt you, and it could have ended your whole career. Either of them.”

“Okay,” Yuri swallowed, “but what can we do about it? Accidents happen. We can’t prove anything.”

“Hmm,” Victor slipped Yuri’s shoes on and helped him to his feet, that strong arm returning to his waist. “Let’s get you home safe. Then I’m going to make some calls.”  
  
  
“Okay” Yuri rested his head against Victor’s shoulder as they walked, the pain in his leg and adrenaline crash left him weak and exhausted.

“We’re not getting you in a loft bed with that leg. You can stay at my place tonight. We’ll have Yura bring you some clean clothes and stuff.”

  
By the time Victor tucked him into the very comfy guest room bed Yuri was mostly asleep, but as he drifted off he heard Victor talking. “Hey, Phichit, were you taking video this morning?”

And then he fell into the dark clutches of slumber.

##

Yura slept curled up at his side when Yuri woke. His blond hair spread like a wave over the pillows and dark circles hung under his eyes. He looked so fragile Yuri hesitated to move for fear of breaking him. And then he stretched slightly and the ache and burn in his leg gave him new reasons to stay still.

The scabbed skin pulled and the bruising made every stretch of muscle deeply unpleasant. Skating would be a treat today, but he’d dealt with worse, dancing on broken toes, working through strains. He’d handle this, too. But, first, he needed a shower.

Yuri tried to slip out of bed without dislodging his friend, but the boy slept like the cats he loved and woke as soon as the blankets moved. At the first moment of waking his arm tightened around Yuri’s waist—a sure sign how worried he’d been—but then he jumped away as if scalded.

“Fuck, Katsudon. The hell time is it?”

“Um,” Yuri glanced at the clock. “Six.”

Yura yawned and got up. “Cool, we have time then.” He grabbed his bathroom stuff, moving with a distinct lack of his usual grace. Not unusual for mornings. It took the smaller man time to get out of zombie mode. Much like it took Yuri coffee to get into human mode.

“Time for what?” Yuri grabbed his own stuff and shoved his feet into the poodle slippers his mom had sent in the last care package.

“We have to get some practice in before the Honor Board hearing at eight. You have to skate at two, and there’s no guarantee you’ll get a chance if JJ drags things out.”

“Oh. Um, so is this normal for an on-ice collision?”

“When there’s fucking video of an obviously planned assault, fuck yeah. Yakov wants him expelled. Probably they’ll ask if you want to press charges.”

Eyes wide, Yuri stared at his roommate. “Charges? But--”  
  
  
“No buts. Leroy’s claiming Victor attacked _him_. And he is pressing charges, so you need to deal with that shit and clear the record.” He paused, put a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “Look, I know it’s hard with your anxiety and--”  
  
  
Yuri shook his head, eyes hard determined. “No. I’ll do it. This shit has gone way too far now. JJ Leroy is going down.”  
  
  
“Damn right!” Yura pumped his fist. And then he looked down, shoulders tense. “Also, we’re having lunch with Victor.”  
  
  
“Okay.” Yuri drew the word out, confused why this had Yura looking so oddly vulnerable. “Is there...a problem?”  
  


Yura suddenly lunged and hugged Yuri hard. “Promise we’ll always be friends, Katsudon. Promise or I’m switching all your music with death metal.”  
  


Still confused, Yuri knew at the very least Yura needed this from him. Needed it enough to actually ask. He didn’t need to understand why to hand the boy the truth. “Of course we will, Yura. We’re family. I love you.” He hugged back, even as his ribs groaned under the force of Yura’s affection.

And then suddenly he was released and Yura was halfway out the door. “Hurry the fuck up, Katsudon. We got shit to do.”

Yuri hurried, a fond smiled on his face and warm feeling in his chest.


	20. Honorable Discharge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets come out in the last possible way Yuri would have wanted. But at least JJ gets what he deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the next to last chapter, and the final one is already partially drafted, so this story will be ending soon. I may write a sequel at some point if there is interest. In the meantime, enjoy!

Yuri twisted his hands as he sat at the narrow brown table. JJ sat at an identical table a few feet away, and in front of them the Honor Board and Dean of Students were all seated on a long bench, most of them hidden by a long bench that looked a lot like a extended version of where the judge sat at a trial.

The rows of seats behind Yuri and JJ just enhanced the courtroom feel. There were only a dozen or so, but they were all filled: Yuri, Phichit, Yakov, Victor, Chris, and Isabella, JJ’s heretofore completely unknown girlfriend filled the first row. Other skaters took the second, and more stood against the wall.

JJ preened in his seat like a king on a throne as he blew a kiss to Isabella and a smirk to Yura. Yuri only caught the act from the corner of his eye, but he saw the frown from the tall dark-haired girl on the board clearly. Somehow it made his nerves ease just a little. JJ clearly thought he’d be exonerated, but at least one of the jurors was already not a fan.

And then the dean asked Yuri to explain what happened and the nerves returned full force, leaving his hands shaking and voice quivering. “Um, well, I was practicing and, um, JJ ran into me. He was...mocking me about it right after.”  
  
  
“I see. And what did he say?”

“He said oops, and sorry, but he was...well, smirking while he did? Like he didn’t really mean it?”

The man nodded and looked at JJ. “Mr. Leroy, can you tell us what happened?”

“I ran into him. It was an accident. I apologized, and then his boyfriend attacked me.”

Yuri’s eyes went wide. “But, Yura was right with me. He looked at my leg.”

A stern-faced dark-haired boy raised a hand to quiet Yuri. “You’ll get a chance to rebut once he finished testifying.”  
  
  
Turning deep red, Yuri mumbled a quick sorry and looked back at his hands.

“Mr. Leroy,” the dean said, voice neutral, “can you clarify your statement. You said you were assaulted. By who and what was the nature of the attack?”

JJ puffed up. “Victor Nikiforov. He grabbed me by my shirt and tried to force me off the ice. I got his hands off me, we got into a minor verbal altercation, and he wrenched my arm and started pulling before Coach Yakov demanded he release me.

  
Yuri bit his lip to keep from interjecting again as the dean called out, “Mr. Nikiforov, please stand up.”  
  
  
Victor looked composed and solid in a simple gray suit that made Yuri blush for a different reason as he stood. “Yes, sir?”  
  
  
“You’re not a student here,” the dean stated, “and so are not under the jurisdiction of this body, but it would be helpful if you would answer a few questions. Are you willing? Knowing that you are expected to tell the complete truth?”  
  
  
With a serious nod, Victor repeated, “Yes, sir.”

“First, are you dating Mr. Katsuki?”

“No.” Victor glanced over at Yuri, and the longing in his eyes punched a hole in Yuri’s heart. “Though I admit I wish I were.”

“And is that why you attacked JJ?” The question came from a small, blonde girl with wide blue eyes who sat on the board, and it sounded like an accusation and a verdict all at once.”

  
Victor pursed his lips, but his voice remained calm. “Mr. Leroy remained in the way after he knocked Yuri down, making it hard to get help to the injured party. I also had reason to believe he remained a threat to the other boy when I tried to remove him from the vicinity. Mr. Leroy remained aggressive and continued to pose a threat to Yuri, and I restrained him until the situation could be handled by Coach Yakov.”  
  


The dean looked between Victor and JJ before returning his attention to Yuri. “Mr. Katsuki, we have affidavits here that you and Mr. Leroy had butted heads before. Is that true?”

“It is.”

“And these altercations were in part related to your relationship with Yuri Plisetsky?”  
  
  
Yuri moistened his lips, throat and mouth dry. Unlike Victor, Yuri had been sworn in, and if he were caught lying here he could be expelled. He needed to be careful here. “Um, maybe? JJ—Mr. Leroy—he, um...he harassed Yura a lot. I...well, I don’t _know_ why, just that it happened, and that sometimes I’d end up defending Yura. So, we—JJ and I—we don’t really get along.”

The dean shuffled some papers. “I’m sorry to pry, Mr. Katsuki, but given the legal charges that are pending, I need to have a clear record of the situation and the participants. Are you dating Victor Nikiforov or have you dated him in the past?”  
  
  
“No.” Yuri swallowed. He felt the trap closing around him, and he turned to meet Yura’s eyes. The blond looked back, expression resigned, and nodded. Clearly, unlike Yuri, he’d seen this coming.  
  
  
Well, that explained a lot about this morning.

“But you are dating Mr. Plisetsky?” The dean asked in the same neutral voice, unaware he’d just blown up a significant part of Yuri’s world.

“Um, no, actually. I’m not.” The words came out soft, but obviously they were audible enough as he heard Victor’s choked, “What?” It echoed through the room that suddenly felt too small and tight for comfort as soft murmurs came from the gallery.

“I see. Were you and Mr. Plisetsky dating in the past?” The dean looked sheepish as he added, “I am sorry for prying, but the board is required to assess any motives for the actions taken.”

Yuri swallowed hard. “I understand. Yura and I...we...um...okay, this is going to sound...” He sighed and took a deep breath. “Yura and I are really close, but it’s not….romantic. But, we...well, we told people we were dating even though we….aren’t.” Turning Yuri looked at Yura to make sure the boy was okay before locking eyes with Victor whose blue eyes had gone wide with shock. “We never were, but we thought pretending would keep JJ away, and it...I’m sorry.”

Victor gaped like a fish, half-standing. Yura grabbed his arm hard and yanked him back into his seat, saying something in Russian softly.

The dean called Yuri’s attention back to the front. “That seems a rather dramatic action to take.”  
  
  
“It made sense at the time. If you had seen how JJ kept bothering Yura--”  
  
  
“Apparently we can,” the dean interrupted. “Mr. Chulanont, you provided an affidavit for video evidence in the case?”  
  
  
“Yes, sir.” Phichit stood and presented his phone. “I have several cases of JJ bothering Yuri Plisetsky _and_ video that shows he deliberately hit Yuri Katsuki on the ice.”  
  
  
The dean held out his hand and took the phone, hooking it up to a screen. After that the case became pretty clear cut. JJ had bragged about taking out the competition before ramming Yuri, had been filmed pushing Victor and threatening to do even more harm.

He got expelled right then. But, the damage had been done. When Victor left the would-be courtroom he didn’t so much as look in Yuri’s direction.


	21. Happily Ever After?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys talk and things get sorted out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that's it for now. Like I said, there may be a sequel at some point where things like Yuri's major get resolved. Okay, there will definitely be a sequel. But before that I have a time travel fic to write. Wish me luck!

Victor didn’t go far. In fact, Yuri nearly ran into him when he finally dragged himself out of the room. Yura stood with him, the two talking in Russian, arms moving but voices low. Poor Victor. He looked...well, he looked pissed. And hurt. Yuri couldn’t blame him for either.

He didn’t know if he should try to talk to him or sneak away to crawl in a corner and die. Not that he’d be able to stay dead for long. He still had to skate this afternoon. Probably he should eat now. He guessed that whole lunch with Victor thing was off the table now.

Watching Yura scowl and seeing Victor’s face dance through so many emotions, Yuri froze, tears welling up even as his breathing hitched, wild energy flooding him, tingling, buzzing. He didn’t deserve to be upset. He had no right. And the panic pouring across his nerves didn’t care. It swamped Yuri all the same.

Time lost meaning, everything compressed down to hot tears, gasping breaths, and eventually, a calm soothing voice. Phichit. “That’s it, Yuri. Breathe with me. In. Good. Now, out.”

Focused on gaining control of his breathing, Yuri didn’t notice immediately that while Phichit talked him through the panic attack, someone else held his hand, rubbing his palm soothingly. Big hands, too big to be Yura.   
  
  
Probably Chris.

Or not. When Yuri dared look up through his lashes he caught not Chris’s green yes, but the ocean-blue depths of Victor’s. Here. Holding Yuuri’s hand. Something hard and knotted deep in Yuri’s chest loosened just a little.

“Hi,” he managed to croak out. “I...Victor, I’m so, so sorry.”  
  


Victor stood, pulling Yuri up with him. “I’m not going to lie, Yuri. I’m...” he paused, mouth pinched down to a straight line. “Well, I’m not entirely sure how I feel right now.”  
  
  
Yuri nodded, hands feeling cold as Victor released him and took a step away. “That’s fair. Um, is there...do you need...what can I do to help?”  
  
  
A deep sigh shook Victor’s whole body. “Right now, you can walk with me. I swore to Yura I’d have lunch with you both today no matter what. I expect he’s already snagged a table. Did you want to come, Phichit?”  
  
  
Peach shook his head violently. “Nope. Nuh uh. Not going anywhere near that.” He hopped forward and hugged Yuri tightly. “Call me later, okay? No matter what, I’ve got you.”

Yuri hugged him back, clinging for just a moment. “Thank you.”

Then Phichit was gone leaving just Yuri, Victor, and a deeply awkward silence.

Silence hung heavy between them as they walked to the diner where Yura waited. The were close enough together that either could have reached out and taken the others’ hand. Neither did and, to Yuri, crossing those few inches felt as difficult as swimming to the moon.

##

Yura wasted no time, throwing his menu down as soon as Yuri and Victor took their seats. Next to each other, Yuri noted with a flutter of hope.

“Okay, so here’s the thing, I know you’re pissed, Vitya, but none of this shit was about you. We were hip deep in JJ’s bullshit and the whole not-really-dating thing before I even knew about your little crush, and definitely way before you too started being all fucking moony and gross at each other.”

“Yura--” Yuri winced, but shut up as Victor spoke.  
  
  
“Why didn’t you just _tell me_?”

Yura growled, but he looked more guilty than mad. “I made Katsudon promise not too, and he’s so fucking loyal he’d rip his own heart our before he betrays a promise.” Head down Yura muttered, “And kind of did.”

Yuri suspected he’d not been meant to hear that so he ignored it. “I wanted to, but it wasn’t my place.”

“Okay.” Victor furrowed his brow. “Yura, kitten, explain to me why you didn’t want me to know. Please.”

“Because you’re a fucking disaster whose longest relationship has been with his reflection. And Katsudon’s heart is so goddamn fragile you could break it by breathing too hard.” He growled again. “I expected you to get over it and move on like you always do. And then you just...didn’t, and by then it was fucking weird, okay?”

Victor laughed, a mirthless sound. “I can’t even argue that. I just...” He shrugged. “He’s different.”

Yuri stared between the two brothers. His face burned, but as Victor reached over and took his hand, his smile flickered and bloomed even brighter. “You...you’ll forgive me?”

“Oh, Yuri, of course I will. I want to talk some more, but I can’t—I won’t—fault you for protecting Yura. Just...next time don’t leave me out, okay?”

“I won’t. I promise.” He squeezed Victor’s hand.

“And we know how seriously you take your promises,” Victor said with a wink.  
  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Yura rolled his eyes. “Look, Victor, you may be the one I share parents with, but Katsudon’s the one I like better. You fuck this up and I will murder you with my knife shoes. Got it?”

“Yes, kitten.”  
  
  
“Good.” He slid out of the booth and stood. “Then I’m going to get the fuck out of here before you two get even more disgusting.” He paused and locked eyes with Yuri. “Remember, nothing changes with us. You promised.”  
  
  
“I did. And I meant it, tiger.”  
  
  
Yura nodded once sharply and then stomped off.

“So,” Yuri turned and looked at Victor. But whatever he meant to say flew from his mind as Victor leaned in and pressed their lips together.

It felt like flying, like coming home. Like everything. Yuri held on tight and kissed him back. In his heart he made one last promise—the most important one—to never, ever let Victor go again.


End file.
